#the only angst i need is like a group therapy session

[crappy-homestuck-confessions]

Kinda sick of the angst in HS when it comes to fan stuff. Not in the sense that things should be happy or that its not fun, no not at all. I'm just sick of how it becomes a competition of "I suffered the most" basically.

.

[mariasont]

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus - S.R

a/n: im so sorry in advance

masterlist

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pairings: spencer reid x reader

summary: in which spencer needed you but he needed drugs more

warnings: drug use, angst, imperfect characters

wc: 2.9k

December 19th, 2021

You were tired, each movement a chore as you fumbled with the key and heaved the door open to your shared apartment. It welcomed you with its hushed darkness, broken only by the intrusive light of the streetlamps outside, which bled through the windows and stretched shadows across the room.

It was quiet, too quiet. Keys clinked quickly onto the counter. "Spence? Are you here?"

No answer. Your brows contracted in a frown as you moved with increased urgency through the apartment, heading down the hall to your shared bedroom. There he was, on the bed, his back to you, shoulders tensed and drawn up as though bracing against something.

At the creak of the door, he turned towards you in a slow motion, his eyes glossed over, movements sluggish. The signs were unmistakable--the ghostly colorlessness draped over his skin, the faint tremor in his hands, the beads of sweat on his forehead.

His speech was slurred whether he realized it or not, words melding into each other. "Hey... I didn't hear you come in."

A cold hand gripped at your heart, dragging it down to the soles of your feet, as the vial on the bedside table glared back at you.

"Spencer, you promised," your words trailed off, choked by the tears that now glistened at the edge of your eyes, your hand dragging through your hair, while the other reached out for the bottle. "You promised me."

His gaze lingered on you, heavy and slow, as if each movement you made was effortful to follow. "I...I know. I just...I tried."

"But we've been doing so well. The therapy sessions, the support groups. I thought it was helping. You told me it was helping. You've been clean for a month."

You were trembling, your eyes searching his, but you could barely stand to look at him. It was a bitter pill that you didn't want to swallow--that the person he was right now wasn't him. It wasn't the man you loved, the one who stayed up late to braid your hair, the man who laughed at your jokes even when they weren't funny and he didn't understand them, the man you envisioned as the father of your children.

"What happened?"

"I didn't mean to."

June 2nd, 2021

You were humming to yourself, the melody trailing off as you placed your bag down, but your steps towards the refrigerator halted by the unexpected clatter from the bathroom. You froze in the spot—Spencer should be at work. Your heart was pounding, with a boyfriend who did what he did for a living you were always prepared for the worst.

Your hand found the pepper spray in your bag as you inched forward, the distance to the bathroom shrinking with each pulse of your racing heart. The door was barely open, but the sliver of view revealed Spencer, syringe clutched tightly, his damning evidence, desperation drawn across his face.

"Spencer? What are you doing?"

Shock rooted you to the spot, watching him spin around--a ghost of himself, eyes alarmingly wide and bloodshot, as he furtively tucked the syringe out of sight.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Your body reacts before your mind can, pulling away sharply from the venom in his voice. It's a voice you don't recognize. He didn't even speak to you like that during arguments. Confusion clouds your mind as you retreat, one cautious step after another.

"I...I forgot my lunch. I came home to grab it. Spencer, are you okay? What was that?"

His face crumbled, his hand outstretched in a silent plea, but you, still trembling with apprehension, still unsure, took another step back, your gut twisting at the way hurt reflected in his gaze.

"I can't—it's not what it looks like, okay?"

"But it is, isn't it?" Your hands are clasped behind you, knuckles white, eyes searching his face for something, anything. "It's exactly what it looks like. You're using."

His shoulders sag, his hand reaching behind him to stable himself on the counter as he ran a hand over his face. You were well-acquainted with his past; though you hadn't been there, his stories painted a hauntingly clear picture. If the man responsible wasn't already dead, you'd take him out with your own bare hands. 

"But Spencer it's been eight years... what? I just, why now?"

He gave you no response, just the slow, defeated bob of his head, chin sinking to his chest. You released a weary breath, the act itself a release of the pain that tightened around your heart at the sight of him. You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching out, fingers aching to weave through the strands of his hair.

"Hey, look at me, it's okay. We can get you help, okay? Everything's going to be fine, baby."

"No!" His voice erupted, too forceful, but it faded as fast as it came, his words turning to a raw scratch. "No, no... 'M sorry, sweetheart. I can't let this get out. I could lose my job."

Tears carved a path down your cheeks, unchecked, as you held his gaze, hands fastened around his arms.

"Spencer, I don't care about your job right now. I care about you," you plead with him, your fingers slipping between his. "You need help."

"You wouldn't get it, okay?" he murmured, his curls tumbling forward as his hands left yours to gently cup your face. His hands were cold. "Just give me some time to handle it. I'll stop, okay? I can stop."

You were silent, the lack of experience of the situation paralyzing your thoughts, rendering you unsure. How were you supposed to go about this? Who could you tell? You knew the consequences of telling Hotch or even Morgan, knew the depression that would follow if Spencer lost his job. You wanted to believe him; you really did.

"Okay."

December 19th, 2021

"Okay, let's do rehab."

Spencer stands from the bed, invading your space, his voice rising with a sharp edge that was reserved for moments like this. "I'm not letting you ship me away to some facility."

"Spencer, it's not shipping you away, it's getting you help, real help. I gave you a chance, okay? Multiple, actually. I did what you asked. I did everything you asked, please baby."

With each step he took, his actions grew increasingly erratic, and his words more fragmented, as he raked his fingers through his tousled hair. "You don't understand! I watched my mom, her experience with those places... I won't end up like that."

You lowered your voice, infusing it with a softness as you extended your hand towards him, only for him to dismissively shake off your touch. "Please, you're not yourself. You are so much more than this... than what it's making you."

"You don't think I know that? You think I want this?"

You took a step back, an action that had become second nature to you.

"I know. Spence, I know. Please, I'm on your side. I'm always going to be on your side," you pleaded. Your words were desperate. "I just need you to fight, and sometimes fighting is accepting that you need help."

The eyes that had once held such clarity and focus, now seemed distant, looking through you rather than at you. His words a blurred murmur. "I can stop. I just need time... I can handle it."

The familiarity of the words seemed to hit you like a truck, robbing the breath out of your lungs, tears and snot trickling down your face.

"How much time, Spence? How many more chances? I can't watch the man I love disappear before my eyes, please."

August 12th, 2021

Your back throbbed with a dull ache from a day of cleaning, but the task, weirdly enough, was one of your favorite things to do. Your fingers drummed against the wood as you started to put away Spencer's laundry, only to be interrupted by the unexpected feel of something cold and hard in the drawer. You knew it before you saw it. Inside, a collection of vials lay in a row, mocking you. 

Your heart plummeted, fingers curling around the vials, the chill of the glass seeming to seep into your skin. You felt a scream clawing at your throat and tears brimming your eyes, but your voice was trapped in silence. Each step was fueled by anger as you made your way to the bathroom. The toilet bowl gaped at you, and without hesitation, you flung the drugs into the water, freezing mid-action as the front door opened. 

Footsteps—his footsteps—echoed as if he had a sixth sense. "What the hell are you doing?"

You reached for the flush, only for his hand to encase yours in a startling grip, your eyes flaring wide as you tore your hand back. "Let go of me."

"You have no right."

"Yeah, Spencer? I have no right?" You hiss, shoving him just enough to carve out some distance. You couldn't breathe. "Why do you still have this? You told me you stopped."

You watched as he crumbled before you, tears prickling at his eyes. Each breath you took was unsteady, but your actions were certain as you pressed him into you, as close as humanly possible. Desperation clawed at you; you wanted this to stop. You wanted to take his pain, to make it yours, you'd do anything.

"'M sorry," he choked out, barely audible, his hand cradling the back of your head while the other clung to your waist. "I'm so sorry."

December 19th, 2021

"So, I'm the one at fault?"

"That's not what I'm saying—,"

Neither of you were making sense now; his confusion mirrored your own, and both of you knew this. You were angry, he was angry, both of you a well of grief, feeling everything and nothing simultaneously. 

"Well, it sure sounds like it Spencer."

"I just need...space."

The words bit you on the ass, prompting a hollow laugh to rise from your throat--a sound that bore a closer resemblance to a mangled sob than anything.

"Space? You don't get space, Spencer." Your words didn't sound like yourself, like you were listening to someone else speak them. 

May 23rd, 2019

You were sweet. It was what had first drawn Spencer to you, the way you radiated a warmth that was almost overwhelming to everyone. You were the kind of person who never met a stranger, nurtured by your innate effort to go out of your way to put a smile on people's faces.

There you stood, delicately snipping away at a bouquet's ends, a soft hum escaping your lips, with blue headphones nestled over your ears, isolating you in a peaceful bubble as you worked. You hadn't seen him approach, frankly, hadn't heard him either, so when you chanced a glance upwards, his unexpected figure prompted a yelp, sending the flowers tumbling to the ground in a colorful cascade.

In a clumsy rush, your headphones were swept off, a stream of apologies tumbling from your lips as you absorbed the sight of him. Short brown hair that framed a face with eyes so stunningly brown they shimmered like molten gold in the light, and he was impeccably dressed in a grey blazer over a rich red sweater, with a crocked tie and white dress shirt underneath. 

You thought he'd have to be dying of heat, but he didn't show it.

"Sorry," he murmured, a toothless smile spreading wide across his face as he dipped his head for a closer glimpse of you.

Under the weight of his gaze, you felt a sudden surge of self-awareness, regretting not putting a little more effort into your appearance that morning.

"No, that's my bad, I should really try and pay attention to my surroundings more often."

He gave you another smile in response and that one nearly killed you, teeth and all, and it was so disarmingly handsome it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck, almost knocking the wind out of you. 

You were seized by the kind of overwhelming yearning you'd only seem in those cheesy romance movies. You wanted to ask him out, but that was a first for you, so you found yourself blatantly ogling him, utterly transfixed.

"Do you work here?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Sorry, how can I help you?"

"Do you have any bouquets with Lathyrus odoratus?" he asked, eyes roving among the arrangements. "They're a member of the Facabeae family. Interestingly, they have the unique capability to convert atmospheric nitrogen into a more usable form through nitrogen fixation."

You gave him a lopsided smile. "Do you just know that?"

"Uh, yeah."

You hummed in response, fingers tapping the counter before moving between aisles to find what he was looking for. "These?"

"Perfect," he said with a nod.

As you assembled the bouquet, your hands moved nimbly, and you couldn't help but steal a glance at his left hand--no ring in sight, a promising detail. But he was buying flowers, that couldn't be a good sign for you.

"Your girlfriend will be ecstatic with these beauties."

You thought you were being slick, but he'd later tell you he saw right through you, I mean, of course he did.

"Oh, no, no girlfriend," he clarified, almost too quickly, sending a flutter through you heart. You concealed your budding smile by bowing your head, giving the bouquet your full attention. "They're for my mother."

You practically melted. "That's so sweet..." 

You lingered on the words, feigning the need to ask for his name, it was a stretch, sure, you didn't really need his name in this context.

"Spencer. Spencer Reid."

You returned your name with a beaming smile. "Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Spencer Reid."

You presented him with the completed bouquet, ringing him up while discreetly stealing glances his way.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, anytime."

He came back every week after that.

December 19th, 2021

"You're not the person I fell in love with."

Now that stung. You felt like he had just knocked you on your ass and he hadn't laid a hand on you. Mostly because he was right. You weren't. 

You were on edge more than not, your patience wearing thin more than you'd like to acknowledge, and you couldn't remember the last time you had flirted with Spencer like you used to. You couldn't remember the last time you begged for him to come to bed just to feel his arms around you, couldn't remember the last time he'd come home early just to see you, the last time you'd had sex.

You used to be so happy. You used to surprise Spencer with his favorite homemade cookies, leave hand drawn comics on his desk, carefully adjust his tie every morning, listen so intently to every lengthy explanation he had for everything.

You wanted to blame him, wanted to scream, to fight, to kick, but your body refused to cooperate. You were cemented in place, your stare heavy, silently begging him to take it all back, but the words hung in the air, unrevoked.

"You're right." A softness flickered in his eyes, his hand moving forward, but you stepped back. "Don't touch me."

"I didn't mean that—,"

"You meant it, or you wouldn't have said it," you said, your voice cracking as tears stained your face. "I can't keep doing this, Spencer. I've tried, god knows how much I've tried, but it's like you're not even here. I don't recognize my own reflection, let alone us. I love you, Spencer, with a love so deep it fucking scares me, but I can't stand by and watch you kill yourself."

April 23rd, 2024

"One sec!"

The bell over the door jingled, prompting you to snap the inventory boxes closed, nudging them back with your hip as you maneuvered through the storefront, balancing the boxes towards the desk. 

"Here let me help!"

The boxes obscured your view, but a hand with neatly polished nails gracefully relieved you of one, placing it gently on the ground.

You let out a light laugh, easing your own box to the floor. "Thanks, I somehow always underestimate the weight of soil."

The woman was breathtaking, the kind that could make you second-guess the fairness of fate. She seemed more suited to the glossy pages of a fashion magazine than the worn-down, way overdue for a deep clean, flower shop.

"How can I help you?"

"Just a dozen roses, please."

You offered her a brief nod, reaching for one of the pre-arranged roses from the shelf behind you and placing it down on the counter.

"Could you leave a note?" she asked, her glittering finger lightly pressing against the fabric of her dress. Now that was a rock.

"Of course," you say, your hand deftly sliding open the drawer beneath you to retrieve a card. "Just let me know what you want it to say."

As she spoke, your pen hurried to keep pace. "A year of marriage and a lifetime to go."

You flashed her a warm smile. "Congratulations. Who should I make it out to?"

"Spencer. Spencer Reid."

Nausea churned in your gut, somersaulting into a sharp, searing sting. This must be some cruel joke. But the date wasn't April 1st, and the woman's serious expression stripped away any hope of humor. 

You swallowed hard, writing the name of the man you'd thought would be your husband. While ringing her up, you did everything in your power to conceal the tremble in your hand and the tears that were just moments away from falling. He hated roses.

Your eyes followed her as she left, watching her every step to the car and out of the parking lot, until she was just a speck in the distance. The realization hit you like another wave of nausea--why could he get clean for her and not you?

[demonsslayersstuff]

Male Hashira x Reader (How They Apologize)

A/N: I’m back with one of my fav things to write! This one took a little longer than I planned, but life is getting busy. My plan is to get the Nanami fic out next week. As always thanks for the support! Have a great rest of the week/ weekend!

Description: Head cannons on how the Male Hashira apologize to the reader after a fight.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, slight smut with Sanemi’s (I couldn’t contain myself with that man). Reader is written gender neutral for all!

Kyojuro Rengoku:

Hates that he hurt you, to him it’s the worst feeling in the world, he swore to protect you and make you happy and ultimately failed to do so.

Immediately apologizes, but gives you space. As much as it pains him to be apart from you, he understands the need for space and respects that

When the two of you are ready to talk and apologize, he’s immediately pulling you into a tight embrace and keeping you there for a while. Gives you kisses all over your face and plans some alone time for just the two of you

Rengoku is not one to get you a gift after a fight, he’s going to focus on quality time and having a conversation to clear the air. Communication is key!

You watch as Rengoku comes into the kitchen, guilty expression splayed across his face. It had been a few hours since you’d asked him for some space after a particularly nasty spat, though now that you had time to think and calm down, the fight seemed to be over nothing of importance. “Can we talk?”, Rengoku asks as he comes to sit at the small table that you yourself were sitting at. You nod your head, gesturing for him to speak to you. “I’m so sorry. I let my anger get the best of me and I should have not said those things. I want you to know that I didn’t mean any of it”, the fiery man says, his eyes finding yours. “I accept your apology and I’m sorry as well, I over reacted and I shouldn’t have lashed out at you either”, you respond, sincerity in words. Rengoku reaches his hand out towards you and you grasp it, squeezing it gently. “Let’s make it up to each other by cooking dinner together, how does that sound?”, he asks with a smile. “Let’s do it”, you respond excitedly and for now you knew things would be ok between the two of you.

Uzui Tengen:

Being in a large family unit, squabbles are a common occurrence between and Tengen and his partners as we have seen in the show/ manga. For the most part the issues simmer down and life moves on

If things get fairly tense I see his wives picking sides and this turns things into a bigger mess. Tengen hates when things get this bad and often keeps his distance; allowing you and his wives to calm down and what not

I see there being a little group therapy session when all of you are ready to talk. For some reason I see Hinasturu taking charge of that, she gives me peace keeper vibes. Regardless issues get aired and things will go back to normal

I see Tengen being the type to bring you flowers or a small gift to start his apology. However, he is sincere, if he fucked up he’s going to make sure you know he really is sorry and will do his best to get back onto your good side

“Get in there and apologize”, you hear Hinasturu say with a commanding voice. For the past day you’ve been hiding in your room, only going out to eat quickly and quietly before slipping back into the room. After your fight with Tengen you were on your avoidance, path. You knew it was childish, but you didn’t care, you weren’t going to speak until he’d apologized first. “And give them the flowers”, you hear Makio add. “Ok ok”, Tengen grumbles, before he moves to knock on the door. “Let me in so we can talk please”, he says quietly. You open the door, letting the hulking man into the room. Once the door shuts he starts talking. “Listen I’m really really sorry for what happened. I was not in a great head space when we argued and the others made me realize I was acting like a dick”, he rambles before holding out the flowers towards you. You take them, laying them down on your beside table before launching yourself in his arms. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist before looking up at him. “I accept your apology, in the future let’s work on the words we say to each other, especially in the heat of anger”, you tell him. “I know, I really am sorry”, he mumbles before hugging you tightly to his chest.

Giyuu Tomioka

Even though Giyuu tends to be more closed off, with his partner I see him working really hard to not have fights or arguments with you. However, these things happen in most relationships, so when you do fight, it hurts him

If he is in the wrong I could see him asking you what you want. If you space he’s immediately giving it to you, an apology already done. He’s going to do what you want to do

Similar to Rengoku I see Giyuu being more focused on having quality time with you post an argument. He’s not one to give you gifts, but a hug and a few kisses he’ll do

I feel like Giyuu would be one to do small acts of services as an apology. He’ll make you your favorite drink, wrap you up in a blanket. He’s not one to be outwardly confrontational, but he’ll do the behind the scenes stuff to show you he still loves you, no matter what

You wake up warmer than you expected from your nap. You look down to see that someone, most likely your partner, had covered you up with a blanket. You smile a little, knowing that even though the two of had a rare argument, Giyuu was still looking out for you. “Yu?”, you call, using the playful nickname you gave him a long time ago at the beginning of your relationship. You hear the creaks of the floorboards as he walks towards the bedroom. You register his dark hair first before his ocean blue eyes come into view, soft and hesitant. “Can we talk?”, you ask him, shuffling on the bed to make space for him. “Of course”, he murmurs before walking towards and plopping down on the soft mattress. “I’m sorry for shutting you out like that Giyuu, that was immature and not fair to you”, you tell him, cheeks flushing pink with shame. “I’m sorry to, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I let my emotions get the best of me”, he responds, voice calm and even. You reach your hand out, softly cupping his cheek before you lean your forehead against his. “I hate fighting with you”, you mumble, relaxing as he pulls you closer. “Let’s try to not do that again”, he tells you, moving back slightly to look at your face. “Kiss me”, you whisper as you look into his eyes and as his lips connect with yours, any lingering pain or anger dissipates as you find your way back to each other.

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

This man has a lot of anger issues, so arguments are not uncommon in this relationship. Though Sanemi tries to not fight with you, his temper gets a hold of him sometimes

For the most part when fights break out you’ve learned to just let him get his anger out, he never means most of the stuff he says, so you often give him space. He goes to do training with other Hashira's to help him release the anger while you get the home to your self, a win win situation

When it comes to apologizing Sanemi is a flustered mess. As much as he hates it, he knows it’s the mature thing to do. Personally I really see make up sex being his go to, like I find Sanemi to be very passionate, so after a verbal apology he’s apologizing in other ways

Once the argument is over, most of the other Hashira and Corps members know they won’t be seeing you for a bit. One thing the two of you like about arguing is knowing how hot and heavy the make up sex is going to beeeeee

You let out a sharp gasp as your back connects to the wood wall of your shared bedroom. Before you even have time to make a coherent statement, Sanemi’s lips are on yours, devouring you in a deep passionate kiss. Your clothes are swiftly removed before he grabs the back of your thighs, holding you against the wall as your legs wrap around his waist. “M’fucking sorry, let me, fuck, let me make it up to you”, he huffs out, lips puffy from the intensity of the kiss. You squeeze his shoulders slightly, staring into his plum colored eyes as you catch your breath. “What’s stopping you”, you quip, rolling your hips slightly, causing a brief but electrifying heat in the area your bodies were connected. Before you know it you find yourself being flung down onto the bed, the wall now a distant memory as Sanemi stares down at you with hungry eyes. “I’m not letting you out of this bed until the sun rises”, he says, voice thick with desire. And as his body covers yours you knew you were in for a long night.

Iguro Obanai:

Hates fighting with you, if he feels an argument brewing he will do everything in his power to stop it from happening. However when the two of you are unable to stop a fight, it hits him hard

He had a rough childhood so you being angry at him brings up some past traumas and it can be difficult for him to handle at times. He knows deep down that you don’t hate him, but the anxiety is there

After an argument I really think that you’ll have to be the one to reach out. He doesn’t want to upset you further, so you’ll have to be the one to break the ice. He’ll be happy to see you and want to discuss the situation in a mature manner so that way it doesn’t happen again

I do see Obanai being someone who would probably get their partner a bouquet of flowers as a peace offering post fight, to let them know that he is thinking about them

“Obi”, you call as you step out into the garden, looking for the Snake Hashira who was in no doubt out here with his snake. You walk along the familiar path towards the big tree in the middle, your shoes crunching with each step from the fallen leaves. As you get closer, you see him sitting underneath the tree, so you call his name softly, watching as his eyes widen when he hears your voice, body turning to face you. “Can we talk?”, you ask him as you get closer to him. “Of course, if that’s what you want”, he responds, his multi-colored eyes watching your face carefully. “I’m really sorry, it was unfair for me to yell at you like that”, you tell him as you move to sit down next to him. “I want to apologize too, I should have never done that, without talking to you first”, Obanai tells you. You reach out and grab his hands, seeing his fingers tremble slightly. “I know, but it was still unfair for me to react the way I did, I am truly sorry Iguro. Will you forgive me?”, you question softly. “Of course, and I do accept your apology”, he responds, squeezing your hand reassuringly. The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon talking in the garden, the fight long forgotten by the end of the day.

Gyomei Himejima:

Honestly I don’t see many arguments happening with this guy. Gyomei definitely fits the gentle giant description, though as we have seen, he had no problem taking care of business like the badass he is

Anyway I don’t see you having bad fights, but what I do see happening is Gyomei not listening to your side of the story sometimes. As the de facto leader, it’s his way or the highway at times and that’s what causes an occasional fight

Gyomei would definitely be upset once he realizes he hurt your feelings (unintentionally in his mind) and would want to immediately clear the air between the two of you, but isn’t going to force you to do something you don’t want to do

I see big bear hugs as his silent apology. Be prepared to be scooped up into a tight but loving hug. Once the two of you apologize, things go back to normal fairly quickly, but for the next few days I see him being a bit more attentive to your wants and needs

You feel his large hands grip your waist softly as he comes to stand behind you in the kitchen. “Himejima”, you warn, but he doesn’t listen, he just spins you around so that way your bodies are facing each other. The dishes in the sink get long forgotten as the Stone Hashira moves his arms to wrap you in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to ignore your advice”, he starts, his deep voice soothing. “I know I need to get better at that, but I hate not talking to you”, he continues as your face nestles into his strong chest. “I just hate when you completely disregard what I say at times”, you tell him, pain still evident in your voice. “I am sorry and I promise I will work on it”, he responds before slowly releasing his hold on you. “I accept your apology”, you tell him with a gentle sigh, your fingers brushing against his own. “Thank you”, he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you softly.

[itsclydebitches]

Let's tally things up, folks!

Ruby's entire depression arc is "resolved" by a one sentence exchange wherein she just... decides she's better now? 'Is this the message?' Ruby asks, on her knees in front of a not at all subtle broken piece of glass. 'That I'm just supposed to give up?' and then literally the next moment she sees Crescent Rose, the weapon she's been flinching from because it represents all the failures she hasn't actually grappled with this season, and decides that depression and suicidal ideation are for losers. Let's go fight a randomly evolved cat!

The group still doesn't care about Ruby's Volume-long struggle. What are you talking about, evil kitty? Ruby's never been confused, or weak, or feeling like she's broken. We're oblivious to all that. That's why we follow her, because we can easily ignore everything that's going on in her life and instead just focus on ourselves. Didn't she have a breakdown a couple of hours ago about having to lead all the time? Should we really be announcing the moment she steps out of the tree that we expect her to be in charge again? ... nah, it's fine!

I guess the overall message is that any and every horrific act is excusable because you're just being yourself? Sorry we doomed a Kingdom and have actively helped Salem in trying to take over the world. The horrors we've enacted are good things though because it means we're being ourselves.

Ruby is conveniently the only Ascended who retains all her memories. Can't have the protagonist undergoing any kind of actual change, after all.

Neo throws herself into the tree despite that going against every iota of her characterization. Will we ever see her again? Who knows.

Is the blacksmith lady Alyx? I still have no idea.

Jaune is made young again, because of course he is. Love that they act like this is some curse he's suffered from - "It's been so long..." - and not an actual life lived across several decades. If I got stuck somewhere for twenty-ish years and then someone tried to magic me back to my 18 year old self I'd be like wtf? No? I'm not a teenager??? Will the show ever acknowledge that Jaune is actually an old man in a de-aged body now? I doubt it, considering this plot-line had no impact on his personality, skill, or outlook.

Also love that the brothers' story is treated like this wonderful tale of growth and exploration. The blacksmith is going on about how amazing it is that you don't know what you'll get when you create something, tone all fond for the demi-gods that have left her world to toy with new ones, and I just wanted one of the characters to start screaming about all the horrors they've caused. They killed an entire population in one fell swoop and have cursed two individuals for funsies, with the entirety of Remanent permanently under threat of annihilation if they don't meet the Gods' ambiguous standards of unity. Oscar didn't fall into the void because if Ozpin had been there he would have gone feral and attacked the blacksmith with his bare hands.

We're heading back to Remnant and Ruby still doesn't know that Jaune killed Penny! Ruby didn't even get her sword back. Or consider her in the tree therapy session. Why was killing her off necessary again? Oh yeah, Jaune angst🙃

We got a "when you're needed" from the blacksmith, so expect that time-skip in Volume 10. Can't wait to see how much important stuff the story skips over...

Also, this is so minor in the grand scheme of everything else, but I YELLED when Summer admitted that she'd lied about the mission. For nine Volumes these characters have been dragging Ozpin for every problem under the sun including, in Volume 7, for the mysterious disappearance of Summer, only for it to turn out that she LIED about where she was going and on whose orders, setting him up to take the fall when she doesn't come back. Who's going to have Qrow apologize to Ozpin for blaming him for years? Who's going to have Ruby unpack that her whole family is made up of liars and she was foolish to think that anyone, including Ozpin, could survive this war with a completely clean record? Hell, who's going to have Ruby simply tell anyone - including her sister - what she now knows about her mother's death? Not the RT writers, I'd wager.

Especially when they gave us a scene of Summer leaving on what she recognizes may be a suicide mission and leaves a token of affection for one daughter but not the other. Summer is Yang's mom too! Yeeeeeaaah the story is really bad about actually writing that.

Overall this Volume just feels like a colossal waste to me. The story ignored most of what was set up in Volume 8, introduced a world it didn't have time to flesh out, threw in an unnecessarily shocking story line about the hero trying to kill herself, 100% dismissed the ramifications of that, reset everyone so that none of the characters have to actually grow or change, and has now implied that all the plot important stuff - the Atlesians' survival in the desert, trying to ally with Theodore, Salem's next attack on Remnant, the development of most of our B Team, etc. - has occurred off screen.

The only thing this Volume accomplished was getting the bees together, which was something we should have had years ago. That admission hasn't changed their dynamic in any way, or introduced new conflicts (remember, no one cares about Ruby's breakdown, including her correct accusation that Yang has cared more about her girlfriend than her struggling little sister). It's just... there, not queerbaiting anymore, thankfully, but that feels like a very low bar to meet.

2+ months later and all I'm feeling is

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 4

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 (maybe 4??) parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 3

Chapter 4

I’m a good person; I’m worthy of love.

I’m a good person; I’m worthy of love.

Those eight words became Calina’s silent mantra. She recited them to the mirror as she brushed her teeth in the morning. She chanted them on her daily six-mile run. They were the soundtrack to her sparring matches with her sisters, and the echo she fell asleep to at night.

She hoped that if she repeated them often enough, the sentiment would start to penetrate.

And it was…maybe…starting to work.

Her guilt about Italy had definitely started to wane, at least - thanks to her talk with Katya. Somehow, the act of just voicing what she felt had helped lessen the sting of that particular emotion.

Which probably explained why so many people went to therapy.

Calina knew she’d probably benefit from a few sessions with a trained professional, but it wasn’t exactly practical in their current situation. So in the meantime, she’d continue with her mantra and try to believe the words.

I’m a good person; I’m worthy of love.

The task to bring down Volkov was also helping. She and the other Widows took shifts surveilling the footage from the cameras planted in the Jersey warehouse, and the mind-numbing hours spent watching the black and white footage provided a nice distraction from her negative thoughts. 

And then, less than a week later, they got the evidence they needed.

The whole group sat around the dining room table reviewing the scenes that Viktoria had alerted them to during her turn at the monitor. They watched as lab equipment and various chemicals were delivered to the property. They watched as men in protective coveralls sterilised volumetric flasks and set up distillation kits on newly constructed worktops. And they watched as soldiers in tactical gear started patrolled the site at night.

Volkov’s operation was underway.

The mood around the table was less jubilant than expected. Even though they had the confirmation they wanted, the tangible proof of Volkov’s plan for them was sobering.The chemicals being mixed and the serum being manufactured was meant for them. Meant to control them and subjugate them and turn them back into mindless killers.

“Can you turn it off, Anya?” Katya asked. “I think we’ve seen enough.”

“Yeah,” Sofia agreed. She rubbed her brow as if the footage had given her a headache.

Viktoria spoke up next, her voice equally as dispirited. “Okay, now that we know what’s going on, what’s our next step?”

Everyone looked to Yelena. She was seated at the head of the table, twirling one of her butterfly knives, her reaction to the video evident in the way she was flicking the dangerous weapon - as if imagining Volkov on the receiving end of the blade.

“I have an idea,” she said. “But I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” Calina asked.

“We wait.”

“You’re right. I don’t like it.” Inessa replied. “We have our proof. We need to raid the place and-”

“And what? Kill them all? Take them hostage?”

“Either’s fine with me.” That came from one of the newer members of the group - Sanvi. She was glaring at the paused video, her jaw clenched in anger.

“There’s too much risk,” Yelena responded. “We’ll only get one shot at this before we lose our element of surprise.”

“So what’s the plan exactly?” Katya asked. “What are we waiting for?”

“We need Volkov. We need to wait until he’s on site before we go in. If we take him down, this is all over. We’ll be free.”

“How can we be sure he’ll show up?” Sanvi asked.

“Men like him are control freaks. They can only delegate for so long before they need to see for themselves that their plan is being followed. He’ll show up - I’m sure of it. And when he does, we’ll be there.”

“We’ll need to set up a base in Jersey,” Anya added, working through the logistics.

“Yes,” Yelena replied. “We’ll need a team close-by and on-call for when the moment comes.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Katya said, raising her hand. A few of the Widows laughed at her reference to the movie they’d watched the other night. And a few other hands went in the air as well.

Including Calina’s.

Yelena eyed her critically. “You’re not just using this as an excuse to be closer to Murdock, are you?”

Calina shook her head forcefully. “No. I want to be a part of this. I need to be a part of this.”

She couldn’t explain why she felt so strongly about joining this mission. Maybe it was her way of atoning for leaving before. She’d been content to try to build a life in New York while her sisters did the hard work of freeing other Widows. Katya may not regard that as abandonment, but Calina did. And she wanted to try to erase that bit of red from her ledger. Balance the bad with something good - like backing up her team during the last stages of their battle for freedom.

“Even if that involves killing Volkov or his men?” Yelena asked Calina. “You told me you couldn’t take the violence anymore. I need to know the people on this team have the resolve to do whatever it takes.”

Whatever it takes. Yelena’s words were an eerie echo of Calina’s thoughts from that early morning on the pier six weeks ago. Back then she’d sworn to herself that she would go to any lengths to gain her freedom and get back to Matt. That vow had been sorely tested by Italy - and she still felt there were some limits to ‘whatever’ - but they had to do this.

Volkov had to be taken down.

And if that included killing again…so be it. She would live with the consequences.

For this - for her freedom, for her sisters, and for her future - she would take on one more stain on her soul. She’d never forgive herself if she sat this mission out and someone got hurt…or worse.

“I can do it, Yelena.” Calina held the other Widow’s gaze, and let her see the determination in her eyes.

Yelena nodded. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

The mansion became a whirlwind of activity as they put Yelena’s plan in motion. A team of nine was selected to set up the base in Jersey. Anya found a property close enough to the warehouse for them to be able to mobilise in a hurry, but far enough away to give the Widows some cover. Weapons were gathered, transport was arranged, and gear was packed.

A few hours later, Calina stood in the doorway of her bedroom, a small suitcase at her feet and a bag slung over her shoulder. She surveyed the room, now devoid of any hint of her life here. There was no book on the bedside table. No running shoes shoved under the desk, and no necklace hanging over the mirror on the vanity table.

She’d miss this room, with its rustic charm and the view of the grey, churning water of the harbour. She’d miss the sound of the seagulls and the early morning calls of the fishermen.

She’d miss it…but she hoped she’d never have to return here.

She hoped this next mission would be the last, and that this would all be over soon.    

She grabbed the hoodie draped over the edge of the bed - the last of her possessions to be packed away. She brought the fabric up to her nose, breathing in deep. She’d stolen it from Matt at Christmas, wanting a tangible memento of their wonderful night together, and it still retained a hint of his scent. Instead of shoving it in her bag, she slipped the oversized sweater on and tucked her hands into the long sleeves, feeling surrounded by him again.

She would see him soon.

She hadn’t been lying to Yelena when she’d volunteered for this mission - it wasn’t just an excuse to be nearer to Matt. But it was a side benefit she was definitely going to take advantage of.

She needed to know if she could face him again. She needed to know if her mantra had worked, and she could stand to be in his presence without feeling overwhelmed by guilt and fear.

She needed to know if there was hope for them. 

-------------

Bang…bang.bang. Bang…bang.bang.

Matt stumbled out of his run across the rooftops as he picked up the sound of a familiar code.

Dash…dot.dot. Dash…dot.dot.

Calina’s code. Her message to him. The beacon that had brought them together two weeks ago on the crane above the Hudson.

And now he was hearing it again. He froze and cocked his head, trying to pinpoint the faint metallic noise.

But there was just silence.

Had he hallucinated it? In his desperate desire to see her, was he imagining the sound of her call?

Bang…bang.bang. Bang…bang.bang.

He smiled as the code rang out again. Nope. Not his imagination.

She was here.

He took off running in the direction of the sound. Not near the docks this time, but further inland and to the south. He flew across the skyline of the city until he ended up on top of a luxury spa, the night air around him perfumed by aromatherapy oils and hot wax.

And the subtle fragrance of sea salt and strawberries.

Calina

She emerged from behind a large ventilation shaft and he could hear a shy smile in her voice as she greeted him. “Hi.”

Matt didn’t hesitate. There was no crane between them this time. No metal barrier to keep them apart, so he strode forward, took her in his arms and kissed her.

His intention must have been clear on his face because Calina didn’t seem surprised by his sudden embrace. She just wound her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. It was a messy, hard and passionate kiss, with all of the frustrated longing of the last couple of weeks - the last couple of months - stoking the fire of it. 

Matt may have come to terms with their separation, but he still missed her with each and every moment that passed.

And now that she was back within reach, he wanted her as close as possible. He tightened his hold on her and buried his fingers in the braids of her hair and slid his thigh between hers. The contact caused Calina to moan, and Matt swallowed the sound as his own lust ratcheted up in response.

He hitched her up into his arms, and used the air vent behind her to brace her weight. Her back hit the hollow structure with a clang, but neither of them seemed to notice. Matt sank into the cradle of her thighs, and Calina tightened her legs around his waist, as they kissed and kissed and kissed, their movements as they rocked against each other frenzied and almost desperate.

It was amazing…but it still wasn’t enough to sate Matt’s desires. He wanted her naked. He wanted her in his bed again, with days to worship her body and explore every inch of her skin. He wanted her on her back, he wanted her moving over him, he wanted to spend hours between her legs, and bring her to climax a million times.

He wanted everything with her.

But all they had was this. Stolen moments in the dark, high above the city.

He tilted Calina’s head and deepened the kiss as he ground his hips against her core, unable to resist the sensation of the friction against his hardening cock. But then a harsh wail from a police siren rang out from the next block over, jolting Matt back to reality. He broke out of the kiss, breathing harshly in frustration.

This wasn’t their time. And Calina deserved better than this place - a dirty concrete rooftop exposed to the prying eyes of the neighbouring apartments.

He trailed his lips across her cheek to bury his head in his favourite spot beneath her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her neck.

“What for?” Calina answered, rubbing the exposed skin between his suit and his mask. “That was a hell of a welcome.”

Matt laughed and tilted his head back. “Hi,” he said, belatedly.

It was her turn to laugh. “Hi.”

He dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose and stepped away from the vent, letting her slide to her feet. Then he took her in his arms again, reluctant to let her go completely.

“How long are you here for?” he asked, dreading the answer.

She sighed. “Not long. In fact, I should probably head back.”

He looked away, trying to hide his disappointment. But she pressed her fingers to his cheek and turned his face back to her. “But I have good news,” she said. “We’re close to the end, Matt.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “We’ve set a trap for Volkov - we’re just waiting for him to walk into it.”

“That’s good,” he said, squeezing her tighter to him. “That’s really good.”

“And there’s more…,” she teased.

“I’m not sure I can take any more good news. It’s such an unfamiliar concept,” he teased. “But hit me with it.”

“The trap is…close by. So you’ll be seeing me around more often.”

“That really is good news.” He dropped a kiss on her lips, and they spent long, lazy moments exploring each other’s mouths, the world around them falling away as they basked in the luxury of being able to touch each other.

His duty to his city, the danger she was in being in New York, the possible prying eyes around them all vanished into insignificance as he held the woman he loved in his arms.

But inevitably - and all too soon - she ended the kiss and dropped her arms from around his shoulders.

“Time to go?” he guessed, catching her hand as she stepped away.

“Yeah,” she said, the single word infused with so much sadness.

Matt remembered his vow from a couple of weeks ago - to not wallow in the despair of their parting, but to cherish the moments they managed to steal together. So he smiled at her, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I’ll see you around, then, sweetheart.”

His positive outlook seemed to help Calina. Her sad, downcast eyes lifted to him, and she met his smile with one of her own. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

With a final squeeze of her hand, Matt turned and ran towards the edge of the rooftop. As he raced across the concrete, he flung one end of his billy club across to the adjacent building, using the weapon as a grappling hook. In one flowing movement, he launched himself off the edge and swung across the gap to land on the fire escape.

“Show-off!” he heard Calina shout from behind him.

He laughed at the now-familiar tease and started leaping up the metal staircase, his senses split between concentrating on his climb…and following Calina as she travelled in the opposite direction.

She flowed across the rooftops, her movements quick and graceful. And he had to resist the overwhelming urge to track her all the way back to her new base. To find out where she was staying and what this mysterious trap was.

It went against everything that made him the man he was to let her head into danger alone. He wanted to protect her. Or, at least, be a partner in her fight.

But that’s exactly what it was -��her fight.

Not his.

He had to trust that she could take care of herself. Trust that the other Widows would have her back. Trust that this would all be over soon and they would be together again.

It was a lot of trust for a man who struggled with the concept.

So he opted for a different concept - one he was much more familiar with.

Faith.

He had faith that she would come back to him - free and unharmed and ready for their life together.

--------------

“Three guesses where Calina was,” Inessa teased when Calina returned to the safe-house.

Calina just rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the soft worn couch in front of the bank of monitors. They’d converted the entire top floor of a condemned apartment building into their new base, and were watching Volkov’s warehouse 24/7 while waiting for his arrival.

The nine widows deployed to Jersey had decided to operate on a rotation system - alternating between surveillance duty, training, weapons maintenance and rest -  to ensure everyone would be at peak fighting fitness when the time eventually came to engage.

Tonight Calina had decided to use her few hours of downtime to visit Matt.

And she was so glad she had.

She’d been so nervous waiting for him as she tapped out his code. As the clanging sound seemed to echo in the night air, her heart had raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

What if, as soon as she locked eyes on him, all the guilt and self-loathing returned? What if they were just an impossibility now?

But she needn’t have worried. The moment Matt landed on the rooftop and strode towards her, passionate intent evident in his every step, the trepidation disappeared. Everything suddenly felt so…right.

They were not an impossibility. They were an inevitability.

She was meant to be with him. No one could ever love him more. No one could ever want him more.

As he took her in his arms and kissed the life out of her, she felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of ‘home’. For the first time in her life she truly understood the meaning of that concept.

Matt was her home. He was her safe haven, and the place she belonged.

Being with him quieted all her doubts and insecurities and fears. When he kissed her, she did feel worthy of his love. When he caressed her cheek and called her ‘sweetheart’, she knew she could make him happy. When he held her tightly against him, reluctant to let her go, she believed that all of the darkness in her soul and the misdeeds of her past could be forgiven.

Being with him wasn’t the problem - it was the answer to everything.

It was only now, an hour later, when the heady warmth of their encounter had worn off and she was once again alone with her thoughts, that those doubts started to creep back in.

Which meant only one thing: she had to spend as much time with him as she could.

————–

Things are finally looking up for Matt & Calina. But that can't possibly last...right?

Chapter 5

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @yanna-banana @chezagnes @tearoseart-blog​ @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[kaisacobra]

I’ll be sending you the invoice for the therapy session I’ll be needing after reading “Second Best”, I should’ve stayed curious😔. KIDDING, I fucking loved it and can’t wait for the emotional turmoil you’ll be putting all of us through in part two!

I vote on R being alive, you said you weren’t sure if you’d kill her off for the angst but I think having to grieve somebody who’s still alive in this particular story would be very interesting. If she dies, no doubt in my mind that R would forever infest Tara’s every waking moment but I don’t want her to die sad. It’s not even that I want a happy ending for Tara, I want a happy ending for R, whether or not that’s with Tara(if it’s with Tara she has A LOT of groveling to do).

When it comes to situations like this, one of the things I think that levels the playing field is if R says something hurtful (maybe more hurtful cause what I wrote down below, R is just spitting FACTS). I already know nothing she can say would ever be as hurtful as what Tara said but something along the lines of.

Tara: Alright my bad, can we just forget it ever happened?

R: Why should we? So you can do it again next week?

Tara: Y/N please… -

R: No I’m sick of this! You know what your fucking problem is? I’m the only person who’s never left you, who’s always been there for you! But you’re the most selfish and self-serving person I know and you’re so fucking used to being abandoned that you actually think I’m obsessed! I mean you care more about your dead ex who tried to murder us- more than you care about me, and it’s made me realize that just means you don’t care about me. You never have. You’re more trouble then you’re worth Tara, I think-… I know I’d be a lot happier if I never hear from you again.

You said you weren’t sure if you’d follow the plot of the Scream movies, whether or not you do. I think Quinn getting close to R would hurt Tara. After the first chapter I do believe R wouldn’t really be around the group much, because subconsciously she’ll still value Tara’s comfort over her own and want them to be there for Tara instead of her. So that would leave R in a vulnerable position and make it incredibly easy for Quinn to befriend R, all it would take is R seeing her do things for her that Tara wouldn’t do. Since Quinn is Tara’s roommate and they hangout in the same friend group I think having to see that in person would not only make Tara jealous but really magnify her neglectful and harsh treatment of R. ESPECIALLY if Quinn is still a murderer in the next chapter because then Tara would undoubtedly blame herself for R’s death near experience, because she’d be the reason that all it took was someone doing the bare minimum (I’d want Quinn to do more than just the bare minimum for revenge jealousy but that’s just me) to get R to trust them.

Your writing is really good so at the end of the day I’ll be happy with anything! Thank you for sharing your work with us and I hope you have a wonderful day, you deserve it babe.

First of all, I really appreciate the words and i absolutely LOVE your thoughts on it. Seriously, you wrote them so well, i honestly think you could also write some great stories someday if that's something you would want to do. (If you do, please tell me because I'll be eagerly reading it🤭)

I'm trying my best to keep things mysterious so the stuff you read on part 2 can still be surprising BUT you make some great points and I wouldn't be shocked if some of those things actually end up happening, but who knows🤫

Thank U so much for sharing your thoughts and i also hope you have a wonderful day (or night, yk, timezones)

[jaeyunniesimp]

you’re on your own, kid. (l.hs) part one.

“i wait patiently, he’s gonna notice me. it’s okay, we’re the best of friends anyway”

tw: a bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, lmk if you find more!!

an: this was inspired by taylor’s song!! this is (supposed to be) a short series, tell me your thoughts <3

wc: 1.3k

You were dreading every minute of this endless night, suddenly rethinking your decisions, and as to why you let your friend drag you to a party you didn’t even want to go to. Your red solo cup dangling on your hand for what felt like hours now, not even bothering to take a sip, while watching all the other intoxicated people having the best of times.

It’s not like partying was something extrinsic for you, but lately, you couldn’t care for it less. Mustering up the courage to do something even remotely social, or that required a tinge of confidence from you, has been extremely hard. You couldn’t really put a finger on it, but you lost yourself somehow along the way. You haven’t felt pretty in ages, never cracked any jokes in what felt like years, and the friends you were losing, weren’t being replaced. And you, honestly, didn’t do anything to change that, and you can’t even figure out why.

Yunjin, currently your only, and best friend, has been trying everything to get your dim eyes to light up again. She’s taken you to dance lessons, karaoke bars, studying sessions, therapy groups (poor you) and now, parties, frustration clearly visible on her face as she realized none of it worked. She even suggested dating, but you said, wisely, that your happiness and self-esteem shouldn’t depend on a person that isn’t yourself, and that it’s a commitment you’re not willing, or in the right state to take.

— Do you want another drink? — Yunjin asked, approaching you.

— Uhm… I’m alright. — You replied, hugging yourself.

— Y/n, I’m worried. You should have fun, get drunk, dance, kiss people with no intention of calling them back! — She stated, holding your shoulders and making you look at her.

You let out a little laugh, amused at her attempts to make you feel something. She didn’t know you’d being hiding something from her, though. It’s been almost two months since you saw him. You thought you were delusional, but you kept seeing him, and people were mentioning his name, you couldn’t be this crazy, right?

You and Lee Heeseung were once best friends. Freshman year of high-school, you both exchanged awkward looks and somehow bonded. He didn’t know about your massive crush on him, though. You could say, undoubtedly, that was the first time you were ever in love, truly. He was everything you’ve ever wanted, and above it all, he was the person you wanted to be around all the time, the one who made you stomach do backflips and managed to crack the most genuine smiles out of you.

You were planning on confessing to him on senior year, after two long years of hiding your feelings. That was, of course, until he got a girlfriend. You were about to ask him to be your date to prom, and he had this huge, wide smile on his face. “I have something I need to tell you, and I need you to promise me that it won’t change anything between us” it’s what he said. A speck of hope that was nurturing inside of you thought that maybe, just maybe, he was about to tell you the same thing you were about to tell him. That’s when he told you he was taking Nayeon to prom, that he’d been crushing on her for months, and didn’t tell you because he knew how your friendship with her ended in bad terms. They truly liked each other and planned on trying to start dating soon.

It felt like an anvil was holding your chest to the ground at that point. You pretended to be happy for him, and told him that what you needed to say is that you were going to ask Jungwon to prom. He really must’ve been blinded by joy, because a newborn baby could tell you were lying. Since then, you started growing apart from each other. You both went your separate ways in college, and you couldn’t bear the pain of having to keep in touch with him, both because he was away and with someone else.

That was until, a couple of months ago, you saw him roaming around your campus. Scratching your eyes to try and see it clearer, you realized it was really him. His hair grew out a little, brown locks falling onto his eyes, even more beautiful than you remembered, if that was even possible. At that point, it had been about three years since you last spoke. A sudden urge to cry emerged in you, and you quickly went back home to think.

You were over him, of course. He was no longer a part of your life, so there was no reason to let him sadden you. And that’s what you lived by ever since, until he started being a part of your life again indeed, somehow. You weren’t hurt by your unreciprocated love though, but seeing him, thinking about even the slightest chance of him being a part of your routine again, made you relive all those emotions you felt one day, that made you so woeful.

Yunjin was really holding the threads for you, and you couldn’t be more thankful. She insisted on getting you a new drink, since yours was already warm by now. You were back to being alone again tonight, hoping for all the minutes to quickly pass by.

— Y/n? — You heard a voice ask from behind. A familiar voice.

You were mentally face palming yourself, hand sweaty already. You turned around and your eyes met his. Lee Heeseung’s. God, why?

— Oh my God, Heeseung? — You pretended to be surprised and delighted, this time, a little more convincing.

— I totally forgot you went here! But i’ve never pictured you as the party type, though. — He said smiling.

— Yeah, a friend dragged me here… — You answered, scratching the back of your head, letting out a fake small laugh.

— Here, love. — Yunjin handed you the drink with a smile. She looked at you confused, seeing you talking to someone else. A GUY!!! She then smiled even wider — Who’s this?

— Yunjin, this is Heeseung, we were friends in high-school. — You said giving her a discrete concerned look.

Then reality hit her, as she remembered all the stories you’ve told her about him and your past, the smile fading from her face.

— Oh! Nice to meet you! I’m Yunjin. — She shook his hand, trying to reconstruct the amused gaze she had on a few seconds ago, failing miserably. — Do you mind if I steal her for a second? I have to tell her something.

She dragged you aside, where he couldn’t hear you two through all the talking and music blasting in the living room.

— Are you okay? — She asked, concerned.

— Yeah, Jin, I’m over him and what happened, really. We’re just catching up. — You reassured.

She looked at you doe eyed, lifting her arms up in a sign of defeat.

— Let me know if you need to go home. — You nodded in response, and she went back to the drinking games she was playing, waving Heeseung goodbye.

You got closer to him again, flashing him a shy smile.

— We haven’t talked in a while. I really thought we would never stop being friends… — He said, breaking the silence.

You didn’t really know how to respond. You couldn’t just confess now, and you know you both stopped talking because you stopped responding his texts, and making up excuses not to see him.

— Yeah, I’m sorry for that, really. I was so caught up with everything, exams, adapting, and you were so far away… It’s no excuse, though, I probably hurt you a lot. — You replied, looking down at your feet.

You suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder.

— It’s okay, Y/n, I understand. I know you were also uncomfortable with me dating Nayeon, and I don’t blame you. I missed you, though… — He gave you a reassuring smile, which you reciprocated.

— I missed you too.

next

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

I want loui angst. but like. ANGST angst. i need some. please. /silly

Ohohoho you dumb silly fool..../j/aff/silly

(TW for râpe, abuse possible sewerslide and war)

==========================================

-so it's pretty much agreed that France was a sh*tty father right? Yea. He would literally do ANYTHING in his power to hurt Louisiana, for seemingly no reason at all other than pleasure. He r4ped him, beat him, and yelled at him for pretty much nothing. And even through all of this, Loui still loves his father.

-Unfortunately, it was always those that Loui loved most that hurt him the worst.

-during one of the many wars that Loui fought in, he got shot in the neck and nearly beheaded. He laid half-dead in the battlefield for nearly 2 days before waking up to find severe neck pain, but the wound had stitched itself back together, leaving nothing but a scar.

-during the Civil War, he attempted to convince Confederate that maybe that wasn't the way to go, and that maybe they should just surrender to prevent any more losses of their people. Keyword "attempted". Cuz Confederate proceeded to nearly beat this kid to death, only stopping when he was called away. And Louisiana was left there bleeding out until he was found by the Union, and then he rejoined the Union. (I don't give a damn if this ain't historically accurate lol-)

-one time, some of the states were having a kind of group therapy session, and Loui ended up telling the other's about his past when he was owned by France. And then suddenly it made a lot more sense to the OG13 (and Kentucky, Tennessee, Vermont, and Ohio) as to why Loui was so terrified (besides barely knowing any of them) and refused to be touched.

-when Loui is upset, it is probably the saddest thing ever. Cuz ain't nobody want to see him sad. And it varies from him being completely silent as tears rolling down his face, or him shouting in cursing in both French and English whilst crying. It's both sad and terrifying.

-loui used to smoke A LOT, but started to stop once his loved ones got concerned about it. He still smokes from time to time, but not nearly as much as he used to.

-when some of the other southern states (*cough cough* Alabama and Tennessee *cough cough*) found out that Loui did witchcraft and was essentially a warlock, they made fun of him constantly. And one time, in the middle of hurricane season, he slipped away from them and didn't come back for a few days. Tho the only reason he came back was because Florida, Texas, and Georgia all went looking for him and found him passed out sick in an alleyway due to a hurricane. Yea Bama' and Tenn' sure got a firm talking to by Texas and Georgia.

-Loui could be bleeding out and practically torn to shreds and he would still fight for those he loved to keep them safe.

-a few times, Loui has definitely tried to kill himself. And a few times he succeeded. One time tho, he wasn't really trying to kill himself, but he got into a really bad fight and ended up losing. He ended up not calling for help seeing as he felt as if he had failed and just allowed himself to bleed out.

-Loui absolutely hates it when people fusses over him, and Florida has had to reassure him that it was okay to breakdown sometimes. But ofc, Loui didn't believe that (despite him also telling others that it was perfectly fine to cry-). So there have been many times when Florida finds Loui curled up crying and Loui noticing him and wiping his tears away and trying to stop crying. So Florida just takes him in his arms and holds him as he cries and tells him that it's all gonna be okay among other sweet and kind reassuring words. Loui is so grateful for that <3

-after Loui told the story of his past, he was all like-"But it really ain't that big a deal tho lmao" and was confused when all the other states in the room were either looking down or looking lowkey horrified. And he was even more confused when ALASKA of all people came up and hugged him tight (tho he didn't complain tho, it felt nice-)

[tooearlyforthis]

Help Me Help You

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: (12.6k wc) Steve can't always admit when he needs help - which is why Robin is there to tell him. Weeks of therapy and he feels like he's gotten nowhere. So what happens when his therapist recommends a group session? What if he recognizes someone there?

Warnings: fluff, angst, mental health - anxiety, depression, panic attacks, mentions of loss, therapy, mentions of SA

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

This is a little different than what I usually post but I started writing this when I wasn't in the best place and I found it helped a lot. A lot of this stuff I've been through but if there is any feedback you guys have to portray the things discussed better please reach out!

“And how has that shaped you?”

The words echoed in Steve’s ears. He had heard it, comprehended the question; but his mind drifted far away. The grey carpet floor beneath him held no value, but he couldn’t look away. Why did he think therapy was a good idea?

Dr. Ackerman shifted in her seat, her pencil tapping against a notebook in her lap. “Steve,” she said sternly. He only mumbled a response, picking his head up. “How did not getting into college shape you?”

It sounded more like an interview question than anything else. Something a mid-level employee would ask him as he sat in the front of the store, nerves taking over his whole body. 

He propped his foot up on one knee, trying to think of an answer quickly. “Uh more resilience, I guess?”

Nodding, Dr. Ackerman wrote on her notepad. “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know, that kind of life wasn’t meant for me. It made me move on to better things.” He tried not to tap his fingers against his thigh - a nervous tick he had developed over the years.

“And why do you think that life, going to college, wasn’t for you?”

He tried to think of a way to justify his answer. Telling the truth wasn’t an option, despite it being the reason he sought out counseling. 

She leaned forward, letting her hands drift over her knees. “This won’t work if you’re not open, Steve.”

Shit how did she know?

Leaning back Dr. Ackerman continued, “I want you to come this weekend to sit in on a group session with my other patients. See how talking about what’s wrong may help you.”

“I don’t know –“ he began, already hesitant on her suggestion.

Putting up a hand, she silenced him. “No fighting. You need to commit, Stephen.”

The mention of his full name stung, a friendly reminder that she was older, wiser – a person who knew what was best for him.

“Trust me. This will help.”

Something smelled good. Way too good. 

It floated through his house, filling every crevice despite the absence of bodies. It made him feel safe, an unfamiliar sensation to him from the last few years. Following the smell, he walked into the kitchen. Robin was standing over the stove, a paper towel gripped over her arm.

“What did you do?” He asked, announcing his presence. 

He wasn’t surprised to see her. More and more the past few weeks she had been spending time at his house, even taking up a semi permanent room upstairs. 

She turned around, her face softening from a scowl. “Just burned my arm with oil. I think I put too much in the pan.” Steve chuckled. “How did it go?”

Shedding his jacket, he sat down at the counter. “It was fine. She wants me to do group therapy this weekend.” 

“Do you think it will help?”

He shrugged, not knowing his true answer. Out of all the people in their little party of monster fighters, Steve experienced some of the worst. From getting beat up more times that he could count, to getting tortured by Russians, he was in desperate need of help. 

But part of him still thought he didn’t when there were always others that would need him. His brain would spiral. To thoughts of the kids, hoping another gate hadn’t opened up; to Joyce and Hopper, wondering if someone would come back looking for them. But as the PTSD of his past caught up to him, it felt like the only viable option.

“What are you cooking?” he asked, diverting the conversation.

“Chicken,” Robin replied. “I mean, it’ll probably taste like shit. But it’s been a while since we had a proper meal, ya know?”

He nodded. “Yeah it has been…don’t worry though it actually smells really good. I think I’m going to take a nap before we eat if that’s okay? Just tired from this –”

“ – you don’t have to explain. I understand.”

He smiled at her – a genuine smile. Nowadays it felt like every emotion he felt was being forced, a sign to tell the others he was okay. But Robin had a way of bringing out his true self. She understood him in ways no one else in his life did. From the moment they went crashing down in that Russian elevator, they were linked at the hip - a single mind working cohesively.

Entering his bedroom, he felt immediate relief. It was a sense of safety, like a big blanket wrapping him in a warm hug. Sinking into the mattress he let sleep take him, hoping to not wake up from the horror of his dreams.

The weekend came sooner than Steve would have liked. He didn’t feel ready to walk into group therapy, no matter how much he tried to prepare himself. The unknown scared him, even when it came to just talking about his feelings. 

Robin offered to drive him. He was reluctant at first since she had only had her license for a year. But the session was a couple of towns over and she knew how his mind would run if he was alone in his car.

Pulling up to the building, she let the car roll to a stop. The engine continued to rumble in Steve’s ears, his heart matching the irregular pattern. It was like he was riding up a roller coaster, the top never coming into sight. He shut his eyes, trying to wish the feeling away.

Robin placed a hand gently on his shoulder, grounding him back to reality. “Hey,” she began. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Nodding, he unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed the water bottle he had brought. “Thanks for driving, Rob.”

“Of course. I’ll be here when you get out.”

With one last breath, he said to himself, “All right, let’s do this.”

He opened the car door, letting the cold air hit his face as he climbed out. It felt nice, like a wake-up call he so desperately needed. 

“You got this!” Robin exclaimed from the rolled-down window. 

He smiled, watching as she drove off before turning back to the big brick building in front of him. It was a different place from his usual sessions with Dr. Ackerman. But as he entered the building, he found it felt eerily similar. Was every therapist's office decorated the same? From the off-grey carpet to the leather sofa, it felt like a place he had been before. It helped calm his emotions just a smidge. 

“Can I help you, sweetie?” He turned to the lady behind the front counter.

“Uh, yeah I’m here for Dr. Ackerman’s group session?”

“Follow me,” she said with a warm smile.

The lady moved from her place behind the counter to open the door at the other end of the room. Closely, he followed her down the narrow hallway. His heart began to race, wondering how he could talk about his traumas without revealing the supernatural. It was hard to do with one person but a whole group? He might as well sew his mouth shut. 

“Here you are sweetie,” the lady said, swinging open a door. 

He barely had time to thank her before the door was shut behind him, leaving him alone in a room of strangers. Well, strangers plus one person he never thought he’d see again; Y/N L/N. She was sitting in a chair, arms crossed in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings. It was very different from how he remembered her in high school. 

From the few classes they shared and the occasional hellos in the hallway, he knew she was a pretty friendly, put-together person. She was always kind to people, despite the unfriendly rumors about how many notches were on her bedpost. Last he heard, she was heading off to some Ivy League school after graduation. So what was she doing sitting in on this therapy group?

He wanted to talk to her, to reconnect even though they were never close to begin with. Her eyes were glued to the hem of her sweatshirt, pinching at it in boredom. Then she looked up, scanning the room before her eyes landed on him. Her breath hitched for a moment as Steve saw her realize who he was. 

Wanting to talk to her, he stepped forward. Before he could even make it an inch, Dr. Ackerman’s voice pulled him away. 

“Mr. Harrington,” she greeted him. “Glad to see you could join us. Please, take a seat.”

Giving a polite smile, he stole a glance at Y/N one more time. She was already looking down at the floor, back to pulling on the strings of her pullover. 

As the therapy season began and people began to speak, Steve found himself barely paying attention. He went into this session hoping to get the most out of it, to really take in and listen to what people had to say. But that was before he saw Y/N. Shy and still undeniably cute, Y/N. 

He wanted to hear her story, not the strangers they were surrounded by. He wanted to know why she was here, not in New Jersey, and what could have happened in her life that made her need therapy in the first place. Steve knew his past was fucked up but from an outsider’s perspective, it never seemed like hers was. 

Unlucky for him, she barely spoke the entire session. There was the occasional nod or spoken agreement, but she never elaborated on any subject brought up. The minute Dr. Ackerman announced their time was over, and before he could even talk to her, she was gone. Out the door and out of his life. 

Steve slumped back into his chair, feeling defeated. He didn’t know why he felt so down. She was never a close friend to him, even at the height of them interacting in school. He got up to leave, hoping to catch her outside when he heard Dr. Ackerman called his name. Begrudgingly, he turned around to face her.

“So, what did you think?” she asked.

“I uh, don’t really know,” he responded truthfully.

“Then I want you to come back next weekend. And try to talk more, okay? You get out of it what you put in.”

Nodding, he gave her a goodbye. He rushed out the door, hoping to catch Y/N before she left. But alas, he was too late. Everyone had gone for the day. The only person left was Robin, patiently waiting in the car next to the curb. 

“How’d it go?” She asked, as he stepped into the car. 

“Fine,” he replied, as he played with the hem of his shirt. “I uh… saw Y/N L/N. Remember her?”

“I think so. Pretty sure we had chem together. Wait, wasn’t she some big shot? Going off to Princeton or something?”

Steve shrugged. “I guess not anymore.”

Robin gave an inquisitive hum in lieu of a reply. He stared out the window as she drove, partly thinking of how much Robin’s driving had improved. But mostly, his mind was filled with thoughts of Y/N and how he couldn’t wait to see her again. 

Steve made sure to arrive extra early for the group session the following week. He walked into the office complex, moving his way through the halls to the familiar door with Dr. Ackerman’s plaque across the front. With one last deep breath, he went in. 

The receptionist recognized him, letting him go into the therapy room with no problem. “Dr. Ackerman isn’t here yet but make yourself comfortable,” she told him. 

“Thanks,” he replied softly, watching her close the door behind him. 

When he turned around again, he was greeted with semi-familiar faces staring back at him. He scanned the room; no Y/N in sight. Giving a weak smile, he sat down in the same seat from last week. 

He could tell the others' eyes were on him, trying to get a read on the newbie. There weren’t many people there but it sure felt like a lot. A boy, probably around his age, a slightly older woman dressed very professionally, and an older lady that he had to guess was a few years away from a retirement home. 

“Hey,” the younger boy said, causing Steve to look up. “I’m Matt.” Steve replied with only his name, not knowing what else to say. Matt motioned to the woman in her late 20s wearing almost a business suit. “That’s Sam, and grandma over there is Louise. She could drop dead any minute so be on the lookout.”

“Matt!” Sam exclaimed, hitting his arm. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s alright, sweetie,” Louise calmed her. “He can say anything he wants as long as he remembers that I know where he lives, and I own a gun.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, his shoulders stiffening. Did that old woman just threaten him? Matt bursted out laughing. It was clear the group was comfortable with that sort of joking around. He turned back to a very tense Steve. “What are you here for?”

“You don’t have to answer that.” Sam told him.. 

“It’s complicated,” Steve said honestly. “I-I’m not really sure how I would explain it anyways.”

“Oooh,” Matt cooed. “Are you in a love triangle?”

“No I –”

“Family abandon you?”

“Well –”

“Oh I got it!” He interrupted again, sitting up straighter in his chair. “You got bit by a rabies infected bat and turned into a vampire.”

Steve tensed. How did he– it was obviously a joke. Not anything to take seriously so Steve decided to play along. “Actually, you’re not that far off.”

Matt chuckled, looking over at Sam who let out a small laugh as well. “I like you. You’re gonna fit in just fine.”

“Okay…” Steve said hesitantly, not knowing quite what he meant. 

The door softly clicked open, everyone turning to look who it was. Steve sucked in a breath when he realized it was Y/N. She was wearing something similar to last week, a pair of jeans and a sweater two sizes too big. The room was small enough that as she scanned the environment, her eyes locked with his.

Steve heard the others greeting her as she stepped further into the room, but his gaze was still fixed on her. Quickly, Y/N looked down, her hair falling gently over her face. He couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Maybe she realized that they would be seeing more of each other; maybe she didn’t want to see him at all. He watched as she walked to an open seat, setting her bag down at her feet.

Steve wanted to speak, to say something to Y/N even though he didn’t know what. Cursed again, Dr. Ackerman bursted into the room. “Sorry I’m late,” she announced. “Let’s get started.”

Even though his mind was filled with thoughts of Y/N, he did manage to listen in more to the problems of his fellow group members. Matt was from a couple towns over attending the state college. His anxiety got the best of him and he had a falling out with his best friend. Sam was an elementary school teacher who suffered from PTSD from her younger years traveling as a military brat. And Louise was grieving the loss of her son - a car accident from a few months prior. He listened in more, taking in the symptoms and coping mechanisms they used. Some of the things they said sounded familiar, things that he could learn from his own terrifying experiences.

Once Louise, recounted her past week, how it felt in the wake of her son’s death, Dr. Ackerman turned to him. 

“Steve,” she said suddenly, taking him off guard from sneaking a look at Y/N. “You've experienced some loss in your life as well?” He nodded, not knowing where this was going. “Would you like to share a recent experience you had? Maybe the group has some coping skills to help you. 

Suddenly all the eyes were on him. He felt violated, talking in front of people he barely knew for two days. But in the words of Dr. Ackerman, it wasn’t going to help if he didn’t contribute. 

He began to speak, choosing his words very carefully. “Um yeah I guess I’ve been surrounded by loss, more so in the past couple of years.”

 He felt Y/N look up at him, sympathy in her stare. It gave him the courage to continue. 

“First it was my ex’s best friend. I didn’t know her well but she was last seen at my house so, I guess I blame myself for that? My friend, his mom’s boyfriend passed away, as well as another friend’s older brother…but more recently, a-a new friend. We had only just met… he uh, played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons.”

He looked over at Y/N again who was still staring at him, her sympathy replaced with something else - something he couldn’t quiet. Fright? No, recognition.

“I think of him sometimes– the new friend,” Steve clarified, glancing down at his fingers tapping against his thigh. “We only knew each other for a short while but he was a good dude…I see stuff around town sometimes that reminds me of him and I feel like I’m back- “ 

In the Upside Down.

“In a dark place,” he opted to say instead. 

When he looked up at the group, he felt relieved. They all looked at him with a sense of understanding, like they knew what he was going through. Hell, after what he heard today they probably were.

“I see,” Dr. Ackerman began. “So group, what can Steve do?”

“Well, I find the 54321 method helpful,” Sam said. 

Matt pointed at her. “I was about to say the same thing.”

“The 54321 method?” Steve asked, hoping they would explain further. 

“Y/N,” Dr. Ackerman said. She looked up at her. “Would you mind explaining to Steve what this coping skill is?”

Steve looked over at her hesitantly. “Uh sure,” she said, sitting up straighter. She was trying to look at him but her eyes fell back to her lap. “You count five things you can see around you, four things you can feel… uh three things you can hear. Two you can smell and one you can taste.”

“Very good Y/N.”

She looked up at him one last time, her gaze holding longer than usual and Steve felt like she could take his breath away. 

“And have you been using those methods yourself?” Dr. Ackerman asked. 

She tore her gaze away from Steve, looking back at their therapist. “I-I’ve been trying.”

“Well that’s a step forward right? Effort is all I can ask for. Now Steve,” she directed her attention back to her. “Those were great examples, but not the one I was looking for.”

“It wasn’t?” 

“What about your parents?”

He shook his head. “My parents aren’t dead.”

“But are they around often?” Steve froze. She knew they weren’t. Where was she going with this? Shaking his head, she continued. “Couldn’t that count as a form of loss? The loss of parental figures?”

He remained silent. Could it?

“Loss is not just death, Steve. It can take on many forms.”

Shit, he hadn’t thought of it that way. How much in his life had he truly lost? His parents, his friends, his reputation… Before he could even begin to process what that meant, Dr. Ackerman moved on to Matt who talked about his recent split from his best friend. But Steve was still in his own mind. His own thoughts drowning out the voices of the people around him. 

Maybe he needed therapy more than he cared to admit.

Before Steve knew it, the session was over and he was making his way out of the room, the thought of loss still very much present in his mind. He didn’t realize how much therapy would actually help him. Though mental health was something more and more people were beginning to talk about, it still had a lot of negative stereotypes. One wrong step and you could end up in a psychiatric ward without really needing it.

Trying to give his brain a break, Steve shifted his focus to Y/N and how he desperately wanted to try and talk to her. But yet again, Dr. Ackerman stopped him. “So, how are you liking the group?”

“A lot better than last week,” he replied, watching a small smile form on her face.

“Good. That’s really good, Steve.”

“Can I…keep coming to this group? On top of our sessions?”

She nodded. “That was the plan all along. See you later this week.”

“See you, Dr. Ackerman.”

Despite the heavy topic of the session, the moment Steve stepped outside, it was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. The air felt nice, so crisp on his skin it was like a fresh glass of water. He was reluctant to admit that Dr. Ackerman was right, but the lady knew her stuff.

Looking around, he noticed Robin hadn’t arrived yet. Everybody else was gone, or so he thought.

“I didn’t know that about your parents.”

Steve turned around to find Y/N leaning against a wall, a cigarette between her fingers. There was no need for introductions, they both had remembered each other – it was just a matter of who would speak first.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve began to respond, shoving his hands in his pockets. He spent so long building up the moment they would speak again that when the time came, he felt frozen. Like a deep in headlights. Making his way over to her, he continued, “Most people don’t.”

She nodded, taking a puff of the cigarette. As she breathed out, a cloud of smoke followed, slowly floating above them. Steve tried not to wince at the smell. “Want one?” she offered.

“No thanks, I quit last year.”

Her eyebrows raised, surprised. Slowly she shrugged. “That makes one of us.”

Not knowing what to do, Steve looked around, trying his best to find something for them to talk about besides the obvious. Unfortunately, he came up with nothing. “I thought you went off to college.”

“I did,” she said before mumbling, “Until Gary entered the picture.”

“Who’s Gary?”

Not responding, she puffed out more smoke. It was clearly a touchy subject and Steve knew all too well about those. 

“I-I’m happy you’re here though.”

She scoffed. “Really?”

He nodded. “I wished we stayed in touch when school was over.”

“Hate to break it to you, Harrington, but I didn’t consider us friends.”

“I mean, me neither. But I remember you being one of the few people that called me on my bullshit – could see through my lies…I need more people like that in my life.”

She stared at him, her cigarette still loosely hanging between fingers. He didn’t know what she was thinking, what she was searching for in his comment. Maybe the truth? To see if he was lying? Before either of them could say anymore a honk echoed across the parking lot. Steve turned to see Robin pulling up to the curb. She rolled down the window as she parked. 

“That’s my ride,” Steve said, slowly backing away. “You remember Buckley? Another Hawkins High survivor.”

“Yeah, hey,” Y/N said, giving a small wave.

Robin waved back and said, “Oh hey, yeah we had chem together right?” Y/N nodded. 

“I’ll uh, see you next week?” Steve said, turning back to her one more time.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” She took another puff. “See you next week.”

With one last wave, he climbed into the car, watching Y/N become a speck in the side-view mirror as they drove away.

“So,” Robin began, “You finally talked to her?”

“More like she talked to me but, yeah,” he responded.

“She’s different from what I remember. Tougher, less open to people. I didn’t know you were close.”

“We weren’t.”

Watching as his house turned into view, all he could think about was seeing her the following week.

“Why are we going to the other side of town again? Why can’t we just go to the burger place down the street?” Dustin asked, leaning forward from the backseat of Steve’s car. 

“It’ll be fun!” Robin said, arching her head to look back at him. 

“What’s the place called again?” Lucas asked. 

“Gordy’s,” Mike responded. “Stupid if you ask me.”

Usually in these types of scenarios, Steve would be the one to call them on their bullshit. To be the babysitter that steps up to make things right. However, because of more recent events, instead of stepping up, he was slipping away.

Robin noticed almost instantly, jumping in to control the situation when her friend couldn’t. 

“Hey!” She shouted, cutting off the chatter from the back. “Yes, the diner is called Gordy’s. Yes it’s on the other side of town. And we are going because Max likes it and she used to go with her family. Right Max?”

“Y-yeah,” Max spoke up from the back. “It’s pretty good, I think you guys would like it.”

“I’m excited,” El said, getting an agreement from Will. 

Little chatter soon broke into more chaos, the kids talking over each other without a care in the world. Steve wanted to say something, his grip on the steering wheel tightening in an effort to stop feeling the anxiety running through his chest. But still, it was too much. He needed to focus on the road. 

“See? El’s excited,” Robin chimed in again. “Quit your yapping, we're almost there.”

Almost on cue, they turned into the Gordy's parking lot. Steve took a deep breath as the chatter in the back started to die down. He could almost hear his thoughts again, though he didn’t know if that would be a good thing. 

As the kids began to pile out of the car, he felt Robin’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey,” she said. “Deep breaths, remember? If it gets too bad, do that thing you learned okay? The 123 method.”

“54321 method,” he corrected. 

“Yeah, the 54321 method.” She watched as he nodded, taking another deep breath. “Hey,” she willed him to look at her. “You’re doing great. You ready to go in or do you need a minute?”

“No, I’m good…” It wasn’t until they were standing right outside the doors, the kids already packed into a booth that he spoke again. “Sorry about that, I can’t control it sometimes-”

“You never have to explain yourself,” she interrupted him, grabbing one of his hands. “Never.”

Steve felt this warm haze travel through him, his chest expanding with what felt like a clean breath of air. Sometimes hearing that there was someone there for him was enough to keep him going. Squeezing her hand back, he motioned that he was ready.

It was easy to navigate to where the kids had decided to sit – noise only coming from one side of the diner. Of course, they were arguing. It was about some movie that had just come out though both of the older teens couldn’t quite place which one. 

“Zip it!” Steve shouted over them, standing at the edge of the diner booth. They all abruptly stopped to look at him. It was the first real words he had muttered all night. “Pick what you want to eat. We’re not spending an hour deciding like last time.”

Dustin smiled at his words. Sure, they were kinda mean, but when Steve got bitchy that meant he was alert. 

Sliding into the booth across from Robin, Steve picked up a menu. The options were like any other establishment, and the kids were quick to decide what they wanted. When it came down to it, their orders didn’t really change much from diner to diner. It was the talking that made their visits longer. But Steve liked to mix it up from time to time, especially when eating with Robin - they often split meals. 

So when the waiter came over to take their orders, he was happy they didn’t have to send the guy away. With El eager to get her waffles, she went first, Mike going straight after her. Steve guessed that meant he would be last. He took the moment he had to look around the diner Max had selected. 

It was nice, much nicer than the other places they had tried but that wasn’t saying much. Midwest towns with small populations meant slow repairs. The floors looked a little wet but that was probably from the amount of people walking through with the recent storm. The coffee machine was out of order and by the looks of it, it had been that way for at least a month.

Besides that, not much was out of place. There was an elderly couple sitting at the counter top across the place. Slowly they traced their fingers along a spread out newspaper Steve had to guess was an attempt at the crossword puzzle. But his eyes slowly drifted away from the puzzle and onto the waitress putting down their food. 

It was Y/N. Blue apron, hair pulled back to not obscure her face. 

His breath hitched when he saw her. It was so unexpected, seeing her in a place like this. She looked so calm, almost happy. He hadn’t seen her like that since their senior year. It made him wonder what had gone so wrong, what this “Gary” did to make her dropout of college. And even though he wouldn’t find that answer tonight, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her.

As she smiled at her customers, her eyes scanned the diner.  Looking for more people to help, her eyes landed on him. There was some shock, the unexpectedness of seeing him, but she forced a smile on her face. 

“Steve!” 

He was pulled out of his daze by Robin, motioning to the waiter standing before them.

“W-what would you like to drink?” the waiter asked again, though Steve swore he never heard him the first time.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” he said sheepishly, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

The waiter, however, just nodded, walking over to where Y/N stood. Steve let his eyes follow him, watching the coworkers engage in conversation before Robin spoke again.

“That’s her, right?” she whispered, not wanting the kids to hear. He nodded. “You should go talk to her.”

He whipped his head around to look at her. “What? No.”

“Why not?”

Because my anxiety will make me fuck up my sentences.

“Because she’s working,” he said instead. “I don’t wanna interrupt her.”

“Please, it’s so dead in here she would probably thank you.”

“Who are you talking about?” said Dustin, trying to worm his way into the conversation.

“No one,” Steve said quickly. “Do your maze.”

He looked down at the kids menu in front of him. “I’m not a child!” he exclaimed.

“Maybe, but you love those mazes.”

He took one look at Steve before back down at his menu. Sighing in defeat he said, “Okay yeah I do…”

It was a new record. Almost an entire day without a panic attack. The food had arrived, the kids eating like it was their last meal on earth. Meanwhile Robin took the time to neatly split her and Steve’s food in half, handing him one of the plates.

He smiled at her before diving in. Well, more like inching in. He didn’t feel too hungry, despite not eating at all that day. That was the main reason for this little outing - to get him to eat food. But as the night went on and his food was still barely touched, he knew that something deeper was happening. 

Ever since he started therapy, he had been getting better at spotting anxiety and panic attacks, even preventing a few which he was proud of. But some would start for no reason, even if he was feeling better than he had all day. Something began to rise in his chest and he knew one was coming. Apparently, Robin did too.

Over the noise of the kids debating over some new comic book, Robin asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve dismissed out of instinct. “Just gonna go to the bathroom.”

He quickly stood up, not waiting for a response. The bathroom was unlocked thankfully and looked a little disgusting. Still, he had been in worst places. Staring at the faucet he cupped his hands, splashing water on his face.

Sometimes that helped, giving his body a wake up call it didn’t know it needed. But unfortunately, it wasn't working. He felt his breaths become shorter, more labored. His heart felt like someone was squeezing it in their hands. 

He needed fresh air. Yeah, fresh air would help.

Exiting the bathroom, he was thankful to see there was a back door just a few feet away. Pushing through he was met with the cold crisp air of the back of the diner. There was some air conditioner blowing so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts. 

Picking what looked to be a clean wall, he sat down, trying to take deep breaths. His hands still shook, not slowing down despite his efforts. Nothing was working and he didn’t know why. What had even caused this panic attack? There was nothing he was scared or really anxious about to warrant this level of panic. 

He tried to remember what Dr. Ackerman told him in one of their private sessions. Sometimes panic attacks don’t need a reason for happening. 

“Harrington?”

He willed himself to look up at who was calling his name. It was Y/N, a cigarette in her hand. Perfect, just great. This is exactly how he wanted her to see him.

“Oh, hey,” he tried to say casually, trying to mask his attack. They could both tell it wasn’t working.

“Are you doing okay?”

He could tell it was more of a rhetorical question and he was too tired to lie. “I- not really. I don’t know what happened I just-”

“Hey it’s okay,” she interrupted him, crouching down to be at eye level with him. “We all get them okay?”

He nodded though his heart still felt like it was beating out of his chest. “I-I can’t stop it.”

“Have you done the method yet?” He shook his head. “Okay,” she continued, throwing her cigarette to the side before fully sitting down in front of him cross legged. “Let’s go through it, yeah?”

“Aren’t you working?”

“I’m on my break. Don’t worry about that, let’s help you okay? Name five things you can see.”

“O-okay…” he said, taking a deep breath. “Um, my shoes, those plants ... .uh the-the ground. I can see the wall and- your eyes. Shit- sorry that was weird,” he said, curling back into the wall.

“No, don’t apologize,” she told him, reaching out her hand to cover his. “Describe them to me. What do my eyes look like?”

He looked up at her - there was no hint of mockery in her face. “Well, they're vibrant, they’re a couple of different shades…they're beautiful.”

She smiled at him, not disgusted or annoyed, but genuine happiness. She chuckled, dropping her head for a moment, thanks… Now, let’s continue…”

They listed more things, following the method. With each concentration, the hold on his heart loosened more and more. He couldn’t tell if the method was working or he just liked to be in her company. Whatever it was, it worked. 

As he listed off the taste of his meal, he felt like he could finally breathe. Sighing, he let his back hit the wall. 

“Thanks for that,” he said, closing his eyes. He could still feel the pads of her fingers gently rubbing his hand.

She responded, not letting go. “Of course, we have to look out for each other.” In the distance, someone called her name. “Shit, my break is over. You think you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Slowly she stood back up. “I uh, guess I’ll see you this weekend.” She gave a small wave, not waiting for a response as she scurried back inside for the remainder of her shift. 

As he watched her walk away, he felt the urge to call her back. Her presence, the way she calmed him down - it wasn’t something he wanted to let go of. Begrudgingly, he stood up, knowing that his friends would be wondering where he was soon. He walked through the same back door, passing the bathroom before finding his friends still in the diner booth.

Robin spotted him first as he made his way over - it seemed like the others barely even noticed his absence. “Are you okay? You look pale,” she asked. 

Usually he would lie, say he was fine and tough through his emotions. But as Dr. Ackerman and later Robin told him, he needed to be more honest with his well being.

“I don’t think so. Could we skip the ice cream run tonight?”

“Of course, yeah. Let’s get going, I already paid for the food.” She turned to the kids. “Alright, let’s get you guys home.”

“What about ice cream?” Dustin asked, followed by overlapping replies from the rest of the kids.

“Not tonight. Maybe next week.”

With solemn looks on their faces, the kids slowly climbed out of the diner booth, ready to pile back into the car. Steve watched as Robin unlocked the door, letting them all climb in. While doing so, he turned back, hoping to catch Y/N one more time.

She emerged from the back with two plates of food, locking eyes with him. She gave him a smile and he already felt a million times better. Nodding at her with a grin, she knew he meant it as a thank you.

Turning around, he made his way to the car, hoping that another attack wouldn’t happen when she wasn’t there.

For the first time since starting therapy, Steve Harrington could say he was satisfied with his progress. He had another panic attack later that week and was able to not only realize the source of it, but calm himself down in record time. Well, record time for him, at least. 

Leaving Dr. Ackerman’s office, he waved goodbye to the other patients before making a b-line to the bathrooms. His bladder was not happy about the wait.  After relieving himself, he opened the door to leave. 

“Do you usually hang out with that many kids?”

“Gah!” Steve jumped, not knowing that Y/N was standing outside smoking a cigarette like she was usually seen. “Jeez, you scared me.”

He began to walk to the building exit, her joining at his side. “Sorry, but you gotta answer the question, Harrington. It’s been bugging me since I saw you.”

Pushing open the exit doors, he said, “Uh they’re my friends so, yeah I usually hang out with them.” 

“But children?”

“They aren’t random children, okay? But yeah, they're who I’m close with,” he shrugged. “Probably my only friends if I’m being honest.”

“Huh…” Y/N replied, taking a long drag of her cig. “That’s fucking weird, Harrington. Did you and your girlfriend adopt them or something?”

He cocked his head. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Buckley... Sorry, I just assumed-”

“Oh,” he replied with realization. “Buckley, no we’re just friends. She’s practically my sister.” 

“Oh okay, cool.” She took another puff.

“Do you ever think about quitting? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Yeah well, what else do I have to do?”

“Go out with me?” She turned sharply to glare at him, her eyes going wide. “Not like go out with me. Shit, I said that wrong- Hangout. I meant hangout with me. As friends!”

She still looked frozen, giving him a look he couldn’t quite read. Was that happiness? Distast? Maybe she didn’t want to try being friends with him.

“I wanna see you outside of therapy and your work ya know?” he explained, trying not to dig himself into a deeper hole. “To not listen to Matt re-explain every class he has. I mean like, we’re not the ones in school.”

She laughed at that, probably understanding what he meant. Next to them, a car pulled up to the curb. It wasn’t Robin. 

“That’s my dad,” she responded softly, walking over to the car. She turned to open the passenger door but paused and looked back at him. “Meet me at the Hideout at 7? Saturday?”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I’ll be there.”

She gave him one last look before climbing into the car, driving away. The smile was still plastered on Steve’s face and he couldn’t help but think that this friendship was the beginning of his new life. One where the Upside Down didn’t haunt his dreams, or where he didn’t fight any demogorgons. One where he could leave that all behind. 

The Hideout. It sounded familiar but Steve couldn’t place why he knew it. Even as he walked into the place, he knew he had never been there before. 

It was very grungy. The floors looked like they needed a deep cleaning and the walls were covered head to toe in band posters. A bar sat on the left side of the room, perfectly out of the way of the stage on the back wall. 

Walking in, Steve opted to stand next to a high table, no chairs in sight. He figured it was just a place for people to set down their drinks. Alcohol, however, did not feel the right call. He wanted to stay alert for his first hangout with Y/N. 

As his eyes drifted across the stage, he watched a band set up their equipment. There were only four of them. A drummer, bassist, guitarist, and a rhythm guitarist. It was probably some local band he had never heard of - he didn’t really keep up with current music.

But as he looked closer, he realized that they were familiar. The guy on rhythm guitar, he had seen him before. A math class? Was that it? Slowly, it started to come to him.

This was Eddie’s band.

The room felt like it became a million times hotter as Steve began to sweat. His heart thumping faster than normal. He needed to stay calm, he needed to control his panic. 

Since Eddie died, he tried to stay away from all things related to the guy. Instead of sitting in on the last few minutes of Dustin’s dnd games, he’d wait in the car. Instead of surfing any radio channel, he made sure to skip the metal station. But there was no skipping tonight.

He recognized three of the members but there was one that was new. He had shorter hair, a lanky build and a tattoo peeking out from under the arm of his t-shirt. He didn’t look familiar - not someone he went to school with. But then it dawned on him.

He was Eddie’s replacement. Before he even had time to process that information, he felt a small hand on his back, a presence next to him. 

“Hey, you made it,” Y/N said with a smile on her face. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time.

“W-whata- what…” It was like he couldn’t speak, the image of Eddie’s band moving on without him still in his mind. “W-why did you bring me here?” he finally got out.

Y/N furrowed her brows. “To see Corroded Coffin?” she responded, not really understanding what he meant. “I thought it would be fun, my brother said they’re playing a new song tonight.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Brother?”

“Yeah… Gareth? On the drums? I thought you remembered.” 

No, he didn’t remember. He turned back to the band setting up. Gareth was putting down the hi-hat to complete his drum set. 

Trying to stay calm, he said, “Oh cool…did uh, did you know Eddie too?”

Her face dropped slightly at the mention of his name. “Yeah, I did. He was a good guy.” All he could do was nod, taking a deep breath in. He felt her arm wrap around his. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m sorry I should’ve told you why we were here.”

“No it’s okay. It’s like exposure therapy.”

She chuckled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Sure.”

It didn’t take long for them to start, the music blaring out of speakers that were too loud for the room they were in. The new guy, in place of Eddie, was singing and Steve had to admit it wasn’t bad. His heart still ached at the thought of the band having to replace their star singer. They all looked like really close friends back in school. 

They played a couple songs, and Y/N pointed out the new one that her brother had mentioned. It was good, or better than he would have thought. Steve didn’t know how much he actually liked metal music but if he had to listen to any it would be this. 

But he wasn’t really focused on the music, more of the person standing next to him. He tried not to stare but she was so memorizing. Singing along to the songs she knew, bobbing her head to the ones she didn’t. It was nice seeing her outside the context of therapy. He also wasn’t complaining that her arm was still wrapped around his for a majority of the night.

As the new lead singer thanked the small crowd, leaving as they cheered, Steve felt Y/N tug his arm.

“Come on, let’s go say hello,” she said, pulling him through the crowd.

“S-say hello?” he asked. “Like to the band?”

“Duh,” she replied, waving at a bouncer guarding the backstage door. “We aren’t gonna see my brother perform and then leave.”

The corridor backstage was busier than he thought it would be. The bar was small but it sure didn’t feel like that. People were walking up and down, some running like it was Madison Square Garden. He couldn’t tell who worked there, performed, or were just groupies stopping by. 

Turning right, they were met face to face with the green room, a written sign saying Corroded Coffin taped to the door. Y/N smiled at him before she reached for the handle, turning it to reveal a very hectic room.

The band members were just chatting but it sounded like shouting. It all halted when they walked in. 

“Y/N!” Garrett exclaimed, running over to hug her.

“You did great tonight, honestly all of you did,” she told him.

“And the new song?”

“Better than I could’ve imagined.”

Garret turned to look at Steve, his expression changing to something of confusion. “What is he doing here?”

“You brought Steve Harrington?” Jeff, the rhythm guitarist, chimed in.

Y/N turned to look at Steve confused. “I thought you said you knew Eddie?” 

“I-I did,” he told her, suddenly aware of how many eyes were staring at him. He looked around the room quickly before back at her. “I- just not with his usual crowd…”

The band continued to give him a blank stare.

“I know Dustin, Lucas, and Mike? I know you used to play dnd together,” he added.

Grant, the bassist, crossed his arms. “You know Henderson?” he asked. 

Steve nodded. “He’s like a little brother to me.”

They stared in silence at him and what was probably five seconds felt like eternity. It wasn’t until Jeff shrugged and spoke up that Steve realized his heart rate was quickening. 

“I guess you're okay then,” Jeff said, “As long as you don’t try to shove us into lockers.”

If Jeff didn’t chuckled he would have if he was serious. His laugh rippled throughout the room, breaking the tension and it was like life started again. Joints were lit, drinks were poured, and Steve’s past was left forgotten.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve asked. He walked next to Y/N in the cold, night air, the only sound audible coming from the shuffling of their shoes. 

“Sure,” she said, reaching into her pocket to grab a cigarette.

“That first time we talked, like at Dr Ackerman’s…you mentioned someone named Gary.” He felt her stiffen next to him, a slight stutter in her step. “Who was he?”

Dropping her head to the unlit cigarette, she decided to shove it back into her pocket. He instantly regretted asking. 

Apologizing, he said, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay…” she waved off. “Exposure therapy, right?” she said, repeating his words from earlier in the night, letting him know it was okay. “Gary was my neighbor in my freshman year dorms. We hit it off really quick and started to date.”

She looked at the ground as she talked, hands shoved into her pockets. Steve however, couldn’t take his gaze off her. 

“He was fine, uh, a good boyfriend. Well, at first…” she took a pause, almost long enough that he was thinking he should say something.

Luckily, she continued. “He stumbled into my room really drunk one night…tried to take advantage of me.” She shrugged, actually shrugged, like what she just told him was nothing. “I pushed him off me and he went blabbing to everyone that I was an attention seeking whore. All my friends stopped talking to me, even my roommate…and the administration wouldn’t do anything about it even though he, you know…”

She trailed off as she kicked a rock with her shoe and Steve could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces. How could someone, anyone, do that sort of thing? Not even when he was considered King Steve would he force himself onto a girl. 

Y/N sighed. “It was like high school was repeating itself, you know? I didn’t get to have my fresh start.”

He nodded, trying to understand what she went through. They never ran in the same circles in high school, but it was hard not to hear the rumors going around about who she was sleeping with. He assumed Billy was the one to start them and let it be. Looking back, he wished he had stood up for her. 

“It sucks,” he began warily, not knowing if it was okay to speak. When she looked up at him, it gave him the courage to continue. “When other people decide who they think you are. I-I mean, I didn’t go through that but I do have problems with the way people perceive me, my reputation.”

“I-I mean that’s when all my panic attacks started I just- I couldn’t stay there. It’s so stupid…”

“It’s not!” Steve reassured her. “Not stupid in the slightest. I would have left too if it were me. I mean, I didn’t even get into college. There was nowhere for me to run.” The more he began to speak of his own problems, the more anxious he became. “Not that what I went through was worse than you, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to turn the conversation on to me-”

“-No, Steve, it’s okay. I get it, you’re just trying to relate to me.” He nodded - it was like she took the words right out of his mouth. “Could we go back to yours? If I remember those high school parties correctly, you have a pool.”

“Sure. Y-yeah cool,” he blubbered. He couldn’t remember the last time talking to a girl made him anxious like this. Trying to catch his cool, they headed toward Loch Nora. 

“The back door should be unlocked,” Steve informed Y/N as they approached his house. 

It wasn’t a far walk from the bus stop they got off on and he could still see his car parked in the driveway - but only his car. Robin had told him ahead of time that she was going to sleep at her own home for once that week - her parents wanting to see more of her.

“Wow, it’s exactly how I remembered it,” Y/N commented as he opened the back gate.

He looked back at her. “You remember what my house looks like?”

Shrugging, she said, “Like I said, I went to a couple of your parties.” The pool’s lights illuminated the otherwise dark backyard, steam rising from its surface. “Now this is what I’m talking about.”

Without warning, Y/N pulled her shirt off, moving to pull down her pants. Steve’s eyes went wide, turning around to give her privacy. “What are you doing?”

“Getting in your pool? I don’t know about you, Harrington, but I don’t carry a bathing suit with me.”

“I guess…” Steve said, suddenly unsure of their plan. 

It was just like a bikini right? Only it felt so much more intimate. He heard a splash from behind him, a gasp as she rose to the surface for air. 

“You coming in?”

Slowly he turned around facing her as she grazed her hands over the surface of the water. She looked so majestic with her hair slicked back. He felt like deer in headlights as he looked at her. He could go inside, grab one of the many swimming trunks he had in his closet. But instead, he opted to strip down to his boxers, leveling the playing field. 

He could tell she was surprised, not thinking he would do the same thing as her. But nonetheless he jumped right in. The splash completely covered her but she didn’t seem to mind, already dunking her head moments before. When he rose to the surface, he inhaled deeply. 

“Hey!” She exclaimed, wiping water from her eyes. 

“You were already wet!” He retorted.

Without warning, she lunged herself at him. Steve felt as she collided with his chest, sending him falling back into the water, taking her with him. He barely had enough time to breathe before he felt himself submerged back under the surface. On instinct, an arm wrapped around her midsection, balancing her against him as he used his legs to push them back up for air.

Breaking the surface tension, he felt Y/N cling to him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she tried to balance against his bent knee. They were both gasping for air, taking a moment to recover. But the moment she looked up at him, those beautiful eyes he stared into at the diner, it was like a damn broke. 

She smiled, letting out a giggle and he too couldn’t keep a straight face. As her face buried in his neck he asked, “What was that for?”

“I don’t know, it looked like you needed to have fun,” she responded. 

“So you pushed me.”

Y/N lifted her head from his neck, her hands still around his neck. “You’re a very pushable person.”

“Oh am I?”

“Definitely.” She giggled, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “I could stay like this forever.”

Steve smiled, his cheeks getting warmer. “Me too. It’s like a little pocket out of time. We don’t have to think about the future.”

“Or the past…” She was silent for a second, her fingers still moving and Steve tried his best to stay still. A beautiful girl was practically sitting on his lap and he was trying to hard to not fuck it up. 

“That first session, you talked about all the loss you’ve been around. Is there a reason for that?”

“Interdimensional monsters,” he blurted out. It felt good to say the truth even if it was met with a laugh. Who would believe in another dimension anyway?

“Fine don’t tell me,” she said, letting her hands rest on his shoulders. 

The cool touch of her fingers spread across him, down through his chest. It was hard to stop thinking about how little fabric separated them, especially with the way her fingers grazed his skin.

For a moment he almost swore she looked down at his lips. “I bet…” she began, tilting her head back to show her thinking. “That you have daddy issues.”

“Who doesn’t?”

She giggled, her forehead tipping forward, almost touching his. A piece of hair fell across her face and without thinking he reached up to brush it away. Y/N looked up at him, their eyes meeting as he softly pushed the strand behind her ear. 

This time, he knew for certain, she had looked at his lips, right after he did the same.

The little space left between them closed as Y/N leaned forward, capturing his mouth. It was softer than he would had thought. Her rough exterior not matching her tender touch. He felt her arms wrap back around him, fingers gripping his hair. He let out a moan, tightening the grip he had on her waist.

She pulled back for a moment, only to tilt her head to the other side, her lips crashing back down on his. A small whimper let out from her mouth and Steve felt like he died and went to heaven. He wanted to hear it again, to be the only one that made her sound that way. It was intoxicating, like a vampire thirsting for blood. 

He let his kisses trail down her cheek, reattaching himself to her throat. She moaned even louder and he never wanted to let go. 

“That feels nice,” she said, breathlessly. The grip on his hair grew tighter but he didn’t mind. She could poke, pull, or prod, any part of him and he would let her.

“You feel nice.”

Without meaning too, she pressed down on his lap. And even through their underwear and the water of the pool, Steve felt ecstatic. He detached himself from her neck gasping at the pressure. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured to himself but it might have been louder than he expected. 

Y/N looked up at him with a smile. But as her eyes found his, Steve was confused as to why it started to vanish. Detaching herself from him, he watched as she floated away until her back hit the pool wall. 

Something was wrong, he just knew it. Was it something he did or said? Was it the kiss?

“I should probably go,” she told him, pulling herself out of the pool. 

“Oh,” he said in surprise. Why the rush to leave so quickly? “Okay…”

As he joined her by the lounging chairs, he watched as she tried to put a leg through her pants. 

“Wait,” he stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him before straightening her back. “Don’t put your clothes over your wet ones.”

“How else would I-“

He interrupted her, knowing if he didn’t say what was in his mind he’d lose the courage to say it. 

“-you can stay. Like, stay over?”

Why was he this nervous? He had plenty of girls over before. But with her, things felt different. Y/N raised her eyebrows at his comment. 

“If you want to,” he rushed out to say. “You could take a shower, I could dry your clothes and-“

“Okay,” she spoke over him. 

It felt like all the air left his body. “Yeah?” He asked again for reassurance. Slowly she nodded, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Okay yeah. Cool, um…this way.”

Steve’s hands twitched nervously as he sat on his bed. Y/N was in the shower, due to come out any minute. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a girl over before. Just that the last person to sleep in his bed broke his heart. They had shared a space, gotten warm together under his blankets, baked in the morning sun. It held more meaning to him than he realized before.

As he clutched his hands, trying to calm himself down, the door creaked open. He looked up, watching as Y/N hesitantly peered in. As soon as he saw her face, it was like there was a calm that washed over him. The idea of having someone sleep in his bed filled him with anxiety, but when he saw Y/N it all faded away. He wanted her next to him, he wanted to share his space with her. 

Closing the door behind her, Y/N stood awkwardly across the room. But Steve couldn’t help but smile. She looked so cute in his clothes, the fabric clinging to her skin in ways that left little to the imagination. 

“I left the towel in the laundry room,” she said. “I hope that was okay.” 

“Yeah,” he said quickly, being pulled from his thoughts. “Yup that’s okay. I already started the load on drying your clothes.” 

“Cool,” she said, intertwining her fingers in front of her. 

Steve motioned to his bed. “Do you prefer a side or-”

She shook her head. “Nope. I-I’m fine with either.”

Steve hummed an agreement, moving to take the ride side of the bed. He watched her join on the other side as he pushed the covers back. They both had romantic experiences; both sleeping with someone else in their bed. But in the moment, it felt like they were little kids again.

Steve carefully covered both of them, sinking back down into his mattress. He tried not to touch her, to give her space after what happened in the pool. And with her past, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Starting at the ceiling he heard Y/N sigh. Turning his head he could see her covering her face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, turning to face her. “D-do you want to sleep in my parents room? They’re not home-”

“No, this is perfectly fine just,” she dropped her hands onto her chest as she stared up, not meeting his gaze. He could see her eyes getting watery, a tear on the verge of falling. “I-I don’t wanna do anything with you like- sexually. And I’m sorry if that’s blunt but after everything with Gary-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her to try and show her this was a safe space. “I wasn’t expecting to, honestly.”

She turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” she asked, not convinced. 

“Really,” he replied. “I haven’t really been the same since Nance and I broke up and- nevermind it’s not important. I could leave if this is too much.”

“No I want you here I really do I’m just…confused. I don’t know.” 

She buried her head in her hands again, probably to stop him from seeing her start to cry. Steve ached for her. To see her like this, to know that this was the fault of another person. That a person could do that to someone else. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he told her, moving the comforter aside. “That way we won’t be alone but we can have our space.”

She looked back at him, her cheeks wet with tears. “No, I don't wanna make you sleep on the floor in your own room.”

“It’s nothing really,” he dismissed, grabbing his pillow and a spare blanket that was thrown across his desk chair. “Trust me, I’ve slept in worse places than on a rugged floor.”

“If I wasn’t a mess right now I’d ask you to elaborate.”

He fluffed his pillow, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. Y/N peered over the bed, still unsure of the sleeping arrangement though he could tell it was putting her more at ease. 

“A conversation for another time,” he said and he swore he could see a smile on his face.

“Okay,” she said softly, her head disappearing as she laid back down on the bed. 

There was silence for a moment and Steve thought that she had fallen asleep. But her soft voice glided through the air. 

“Steve?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

There was another beat. Another moment of silence before he heard her whisper, “Thank you.”

Even on the floor of his room, the sun found a way to shine on his face. The warm light slowly woke him up, making him rub his eyes in an attempt to not blind himself. He almost forgot he was on the floor of his room until he rolled over to open his nightside drawer, feeling his hand brush against the floor instead. 

As his eyes came into focus, he willed himself to sit up. Why was he on the floor again? Right, Y/N. Beautiful Y/N who should be asleep on his bed. But as he leaned his head up to see over the edge of the mattress, he was met with an empty bed. The covers were made neatly, all pillows back in place, as if no one had even slept there the night before. 

Steve rubbed his eyes, like if he cleared himself from his sleepy haze she would materialize in his room. But as his eyes began to focus again, he found he was still alone. Grunting, he stood up, pulling the pillow and blanket he had used with him. He looked around the room and it seemed that nothing was out of place.

Did he imagine last night? Did he feel so alone that he willed himself to believe that Y/N actually slept over? His eyes continued to scan for anything out of place, a breath of relief when they landed on his dresser.

The clothes he had lent her were neatly stacked on his desk and if he had to guess, her drying clothes in the laundry room would be gone. So he hadn’t imagined it. What happened? Why was she in such a rush to leave?

Maybe she regretted the night before, thinking he hadn’t changed since his days at King Steve. Perhaps the kiss was too much and she regretted it. Steve’s mind spiraled down a dark hole he knew too well. If he didn’t stop now, he would trigger another panic attack.

Taking a moment before getting ready for the day, he sat down on his bed, closing his eyes. He just needed to breathe. In and out, in and out. Over and over again he focused on his breath, letting all his energy go into calming himself down.

He needed to talk to Y/N. To clarify everything from last night before it ate away at him. 

Steve drove himself to therapy the following week. Partly because Robin was still back at her parents, and partly because he needed more time to think. As the time of the group session approached, he felt his heart rate begin to rise. His thoughts raced faster than they did when he woke up to find her gone.

He just needed to get there. Seeing her would calm him, reassure him that he didn’t fuck up. But as he parked his car and raced inside, he was saddened to find that she wasn’t there. Maybe she was just late. She had been late in the past, it was logical to assume she could be late today. 

Matt and Sam had tried to talk to him but he only politely nodded as they spoke. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth. Like lifting it to speak would only result in incoherent babbling. Thankfully, Dr. Ackerman’s presence let him stay silent. 

The session began and Steve found himself staring at the door. He nodded, giving short answers when required but his attention was still trained on the closed door. She had to walk through the door. To join their weekly sessions. But as the topic drifted from one person to another, Y/N never arrived. 

Steve was quick to leave, rushing to the parking lot to see if she had missed the session and was just arriving. To his disappointment, she wasn’t there. Not even a lingering smell of cigarettes in the air from her usual smoking spot. 

He arrived early for the next session, and the next, and soon a whole month went by without her attending. Every session his eyes stayed on the door, willing her to walk through. Maybe if he was like Eleven, telepathically gifted, he could find out where she was. No, he thought. Even with those powers, it would be an invasion of privacy. And he didn’t want to be where he wasn’t welcomed. 

Robin had been spending more and more time with her parents to figure out packing for the fall semester so Steve had been driving himself more often in Y/N’s absence.

Another missed therapy session had him driving home in silence, not even the radio playing to fill the void. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel in an irregular pattern as he turned onto his street. Slowly, his house came into view and he could see the vague outline of someone sitting on the front steps. 

That’s weird, he thought to himself. Robin had a key, most people in the party did for emergencies. So why was she waiting outside?

As he pulled closer, almost fully into the driveway, his eyes adjusted. It wasn’t Robin, or anyone he had fought monsters with. It was Y/N. 

Y/N, smoking a cigarette as she patiently waited for him to come home. He felt himself falter, his foot almost slamming on the brakes. She was here, more beautiful than the last time he saw her – though it was pretty hard for her to look anything but perfect. 

The engine revved as he pulled into the driveway, pulling Y/N’s attention to him. Quickly, she stood up, putting her cigarette out with the heel of her shoe. Steve felt glued to the inside of the car. Their eyes had met, not separating as he put in the car in park. All he wanted was to get out and speak to her. But something in his chest tightened. If she had been avoiding him for the past week, she had her reasons. And part of him didn’t want to know for certain he was the problem.

He tried to move, he truly did. But his anxiety was ruling over his brain and he didn’t know how to stop it. Thankfully, Y/N seemed to notice. Moving forward, she opened his passenger door and climbed in. He never took his eyes off her, even when she turned her back to close the door. 

Turning back to him, she weakly said, “Hey.”

“H-hi,” he managed to blurt out. Silence hung in the air, as he figured out what to say. Y/N continued to speak. “Sorry to show up at your house, I didn’t mean to be a bother.”

“You’re not a bother,” he blurted out. “Y-you’re never a bother.”

He was looking directly into her eyes, his gaze never wavering. It didn’t break until Y/N looked down at her lap and he could have sworn he saw a small smile form on her lips. A moment passed, then two, and neither of them talked. 

Despite being uncomfortable with long silences, Steve didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t feel like his social battery drained when he was around her. If anything, she made him feel more alive. She knew what he was going through, one of the best kept secrets in his life and she knew. 

“I missed you,” she said softly, still looking down at her lap.

“I’ve missed you too…Louise keeps talking about her one night stands and I don’t think I can take any more of it,” he said, gaining back some composure from earlier.

Y/N laughed, her shoulders hunching forward. She looked back up at him, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of his. As the smile slowly faded from her face, her eyes remained on his. It was clear she wanted to talk about what happened. Maybe she just needed a push.

“Do you…wanna talk about it?” Steve asked. 

She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know it’s just – when I woke up in your room, my mind immediately went back to Gary.” She paused for a moment and he let her gather her thoughts. “I just went into a spiral like I did with him. Like did I force you to kiss me? Did you really want me sleeping in your bed or did I coerce you to? What would people think if they see the town whore sleeping with the former king of Hawkins High just – it’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said immediately, reaching his hands out on the center console. He didn’t want to touch her without asking, but wanted to let her know he was there if she needed to. He sighed. 

“I didn’t expect to kiss you that night,” he continued. She looked up at him, biting the inside of her cheek. “But that didn’t mean I didn’t want you to. You in no way forced me to kiss you…and I was the one who wanted you to stay. I-I should’ve been more vocal so you didn’t feel forced to.”

Y/N nodded, leaning forward with her hands on the center console, not quite touching his. 

“If you want to keep seeing me, friend or something more, I promise I will walk you through everything thought in my head so we’re on the same page.”

She raised an eyebrow, some color coming back to her face. “Every thought?”

He nodded. “Oh for sure. Like how I’ve been craving a ham and cheese sandwich since I woke up this morning.” She giggled again at his obvious attempt to make her feel better. “And like how I’d really like to hold your hand right now.”

He stared at her in his car, the sun slowly setting outside, and felt the touch of her fingers against his. It felt like an immediate release, a tightness he didn’t know was there unfolding in his chest. 

“I would like to keep seeing you too,” she told him, and it was like his heart was doing a million leaps of joy. “I don’t know if I can handle anything more right now,”

“-and that is completely fine with me,” he reassured her quickly, feeling a tight squeeze of reassurance in his hand.

“Thank you for understanding. In the future, if I’m ready…I’d like to explore that possibility with you.”

Steve gave her a big grin, not trying to hide what he was feeling. “Good, uh, that’s good to know.”

They sat in his car, hands intertwined like the rest of the world didn’t matter. Like their pasts and reputations didn’t haunt them like a shadow. For now, they had each other and that was all they could ask for. 

Steve didn’t need some fancy school or big corporate job. Just someone who understood him, who knew what it was like to feel the things he felt and not be judged. 

He was happy he finally found someone who did just that.

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @halflifejess @nix-rose @palmtreesx3 @cilliansnostolgia @sweetdazequeen

[sabrondabrainrot]

OMIGOD HELLO HI I Love you too Bumblebee!!! 🫵 You 🫵yes you 🫵

absolutely beautiful brain, manically giggling and cackling

like dude what the heck why haven't your theories shown up for me until NOW?!?!?! (Sorry i will be stalking your blog for your theories etc. hope you're ok with that 😂)

💖Tsubasa propaganda hour💖

If you've never read/watched 'Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles', if you ever have a free weekend you NEED to check it out. It's written by CLAMP a female group of artists/authors in Japan who basically PIONEERED doomed yaoi and tragic yuri. They also made one of the most iconic magical girl series of all time (they made cardcaptor sakura and magic knight rayearth). It only takes a weekend to really read the entire series and if you like TSAMS and FNAF you will totally enjoy Tsubasa. Tsubasa is also a series to be read side by side with "xxxHolic" (it's pronounce Holic, the x's were added to look cool, they didn't know xxx means something else in the US). "xxxHolic" is a story about a boy who can see Ghosts and meets a wish granting Witch and "Tsubasa" is about a found family ragtag group going on a journey across the multiverse to help one girl get her memories back.

💖I WILL NOT ELABORATE HOW THOSE TWO ARE RELATED BUT THEY ARE, it's the biggest brain thing EVER.💖

✨done with propaganda hour, back to TSAMS brainrot✨

You've opened my eye, thank you for your brilliance.

I am very enamored with the idea of Sun taking care of Witherstorms and protecting dimensions by 'appeasing the beast' and just IDK giving a voice to the voiceless? Seeing past the exterior to the interior? It would be so ironic if Sun manages to love and change the thing even Old Moon feared.

I love OP characters but never really vibed with power fantasy. I've always been so in love with nurturing character and characters that are defined by their kindness and acts of love and just IDK. Like sometimes a character can be OP as a treat, but I like power with a price narrative and some of my favorite characters of all time are pacifists or something similar that usually trade away pieces of themself over time just to help and I think it's so sad and so moving.

Media kind of tends to always make people who lean towards a kind nature and just shuts them in a particular box and that box is typical "They are kind but also so stupid and dumb you can walk all over them" or "they're kind and the world is cruel so they're doomed to die" It just...happens...ALL...the time. Kind characters either just DIE or everyone else looks down on them and I get really sick of it.

I still to this day crave the sauce of Sun just actually truly opening up. He hides so much from his family and I know it comes from the fact he's trying to not burden them or make things about himself but you can even see he's opening up to Earth and Jack in his "therapy sessions" but it's still like...candy coated truth. He omits so much.

I never truly understood Old Moon was abusive until the episode we went into his mind and he had to face the things he's done in his 5+ years of existing and it's brutal. Sun never once really speaks about it. He doesn't complain or just ask point blank why he was so awful to him. The only thing I only thing that kind of tipped me off that Sun was being actually abused (I was very willfully ignorant about the wacking stick, I thought it was just a joke) was when he made the statement "Sometimes, I thought you liked torturing me" IT BROKE MY HEART CAUSE OLD MOON WENT SILENT. BRO DIDn'T REFUTE

AAaaaAAAGHhhhH!

Also Sun sacrificing his soul? Tearing off pieces of it to help? Doesn't that sound familiar? He had someone help him by doing that EXACT thing. To him, ripping his soul might almost be normalized. That's such a cool theory and has so much show canon to back it!!! I love the idea of the celestial family having to get his soul back! It gives me a STRONG need!!!

The Angst there is so real too. I can imagine he breaks more and more parts of himself to the point he forgets important things and people. He's there but not really there. The entire family is just scrambing because suddenly Sun has no idea who any of them are. (amnesia arc?) Sun you are loved!!! You know that tik tok edit song that's been going around like "I would let the world burn" that's DEF the celestial family when it comes to helping and protecting one another.

(back on my madoka-ifying Sun agenda)

ALSO HELLO!?! I never thought of Sun being a filter but I SEE IT. I totally SEE IT!!! Like...that might be why the Astrals are just ignoring him. (could be wrong here, again still behind on Lore) He's not generating Star Power or generating Negative Star Power but instead absorbing it and filtering it? I wonder if there's ever really been a case of it before? That's kind of what the Stitchwraith core with FC was I think? (Stitchwraith also explicitly told FC to stay away from Sun, in particular) It explains why he's so unique to these two energies and also why they don't seem to corrupt him. Star power is such an interesting power source in the over all lore of all the shows I like seeing Sun doing something different/unique to the established set rules.

Never forget, when Sun used Star Power near Earth it didn't harm Earth at all. It only pushed Eclipse through the ball pit but when New Moon/Nexus did a blast of Star Power that Puppet herself blocked with magic the radiation STILL burned Earth who apparently wasn't even in the crossfire. Earth was standing RIGHT NEXT TO SUN when he blasted Eclipse. So much food for thought. I wonder how Star Power reacted to KC too, because he taught Sun how to harness it.

Also Sun becoming the commander to Witherstorms...that would be SO COOL. It would also make sense why the Astrals so far seem way more ok with threatening Moon and not Sun, they just sense those Witherstorm vibes from Sun. He has that AURA. Him being unintentionally associated with a being more power then Astrals is SO SEXY. Everything you've mentioned sounds awesome and cool and I want to know more.

Although I'm just a Sun simp and will literal eat crumbs of Sun content off the floor like a rat. In the words of Brittany Broski, "I'm just a baby possum lying at the floor of a dumpster located near a 1 star restaurant surviving off of half eaten snicker bars, styrofoam cups, and the restaurant's food scraps."

(ALSO AURORA LISTENER IN THE WILD, I kin assign the Blade and the Seed to Sun)

Sun with the kids REAL. I love seeing just like fun little slice of life eps of him babysitting and just hanging out with kids. (I especially love when Lunar is hanging out too cause you can tell he's learned a lot about child care from Sun and Earth.) The ep Jack hugged him actually sent me it was the cutest thing ever. The first person Jack's hugged is Sun! Like sun being badass? Real and based. Sun having a normal day and just hanging out with his family? MY HEART.

Thanks for being a REAL ONE I hope I matched your energy with this.

☀️🌟☼🔅

Random Idea but with what I know about current spoilers I have two ideas. One is that Sun will somehow becomes the Witherstorm (I AM BANKING ON THIS) or he's going to be relevant to the Witherstorm of their dimension and be scattered through dimensions.

One of my most favorite series of all time is "Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles" and the crux of that series is they need to put someone back together and to do so, they have to travel to various dimensions to find the missing pieces of the person's soul. I totally see that happening to our Sun? I don't know why.

Even to this day, Sun still hasn't quite opened up about himself. Not to Old Moon, New Moon, Solar, Earth, Lunar, etc etc. I think the most he's been open towards thus far is probably Dazzle ironically?

I'm still getting caught up but I can tell Dazzle actually wants to get to know him so she's asking about him and he's honestly telling her. (also loving how Sun is spending more and more time with the kids in the show, He spends so much time with FC, Dazzle, Jack, etc. It's so wholesome) I'd say Earth and Lunar are in second place of knowing him best but they also still sometimes are kept an arm's length away.

Solution to this? Scatter parts of his 'soul' into the multiverse and make it the family's responsibility to find him! Heck he could even be in a coma the entire time they do this! When they find a Sun fragment they get to see his memories or feel and hear his thoughts.

In Tsubasa the fragments are called 'feathers' and they can warp reality, break time and space, or even gain sentience. I think it'd be so neat if one of the fragments of Sun became Dark Sun but I know it's not likely.

"I am doing this for Sun, Because I am Sun" vibes

Just an Idea but it'd be so cool if it happens!

My second Idea, has to do with a sketch I did a bit ago (still working on more sketches for it) but basically I know Sun's currently gathering power. He's a fighter and wants to help! His family is still keeping him away from the action though. It's not malicious and comes from them wanting to protect him but it's going to ultimately leave him more vulnerable and a target.

Dark Sun I know is tampering with dark energies, he's raising a dragon? He's associating more and more with Witherstorm energy and he still hasn't quite confessed what his motive/plan is besides the fact this is "all for Sun"

So wouldn't this mean Sun is going to ultimately becomes a Witherstorm? It's what the creator studies and the one of the main dimension is different from others so who's to say our Sun and Moon aren't also built different with different fates?

Creator created something specifically just to torture and wear Sun down but when you think of it, that's also what Old Moon was until they split. I don't think that was the intention but the fact Old Moon just decided to point blank torture Sun? Sus, like it was meant to happen.

Dark Sun I think needs Sun to be his pet Witherstorm, and he's maybe planning to use Nexus to make that happen? I just got to the point in the series where he just picked up New Moon from space and took a chip out of his brain. Bruh...he needs him but won't say for what.

I love it. Dark Sun my beloved what are you evil little plans <3

Hoping Sun doesn't fall into a Coma but it'd be so sexy of him aha~

I really like when Sun spends time with Earth and Lunar too it'd be so cool if they have an adventure to save him.

BTW I've been listening to Aurora's song "The Seed" and it literally gave me a big brain AU idea for tsams but idk if I should try to write it.

I really hope Sun ascends to some kind of God-hood like being especially involving destructive energy like Witherstorm stuff. It'd be so neat and sad if one of the nicest people ever became the ultimate judge, jury, and executioner-like being. It's especially ironic since Nexus/New Moon can't decide what's real anymore and just decided to frick off and become God so it'd be realllyyyy funny if Sun was the one to become a reality altering being.

I'm just Madoka-ifying Sun at this point

[californiannostalgia]

Things I Loved About Spider-Man: No Way Home

*SPOILER WARNING!!!*

Finally, at the end of a trilogy, Peter Parker the Avenger is completed as a Spiderman. Here's what I loved about our 3rd Peter's origin story.

1. The Classic Peter Parker Origin Story: On the one hand, perhaps Tom Holland's Spiderman deserved to have this origin story of loss and sacrifice be solely centered on his personal journey, with no intrusions from outside sources. On the other hand, there is only so much originality you can achieve from the third retelling of Peter Parker, and this Avenger effectively borrows the classic, serious atmosphere directly from two predecessors in order to finish his own previously lighter-hearted trilogy in the wrenchingly personal forging of a Spiderman, which is an interesting approach to an origin story.

The two previous Spidermen's presence doesn't make any of MCU Peter's decisions less momentous or meaningful. Rather, one could view the other Peters as externalized representations of Peter's internal struggle. Plus, one of the MCU's greatest strengths is its crossovers, and who'd pass up a chance to have a crossover for three iterations of the same character that meant so much to three+ generations of fans?

2. It is Always Right to Do Good: I am devastated about the loss of Aunt May. I can't get her silhouette out of my mind--how she stood in front of the Green Goblin with the cure in one hand, how she didn't let herself fall until she'd made sure that Peter was going to be okay. She says it was still the right thing to do because there were people who needed help. I can't comprehend how strong this woman was. She's how Peter Parker came to be, no question.

3. Saving People, According to Spiderman: This film was a violent group therapy session where the host has to bear all of the terrible fallout. Surprisingly, instead of shying away from the personal sacrifices one has to make when trying to change other people (insert "I can fix him" meme), this movie faces the toxicity and danger of the endeavor head-on and says, "If my sacrifice can save someone, then so be it."

The justifications for this sacrifice are thus: because of Peter's extraordinary power and the unique circumstances, he's the only one capable of helping these people. He's the impossible ideal of someone who will use power to do good unto others (take notes, governments, CEOs, and rich famous people), which is the classic Spidey essence. In-universe, he sorely needs a hug, but as a movie viewer I approve of this narrative decision.

4. The Predecessors: The crossovers were great and we got some shining character beats. I was internally screaming when Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker got his own group therapy boon by being able to save MJ himself. He was my first Spiderman and I loved and missed his bouncy snark so much. No doubt Tobey Maguire fans were having the same freak-outs in the theater, especially when he blocked that glider. Doc Ock and Green Goblin were spectacular, of course. Jamie Foxx's Electro had fire lines, and I really loved the back-and-forth with Andrew Garfield's Spiderman. (Mandatory shout-out to Miles Morales, the wonder, the legend.)

4. Coming Of Age: From a meta perspective, this MCU Spiderman has absorbed the previously established character beats from his predecessors to make it his own. By the end of the film, he has shed all guidance figures who'd affected his journey so far and taken the first steps of true independence. He embodies both the youthful enthusiasm and the astonishing maturity of a young adult superhero. (He still likes legos, by the way. In case we weren't devastated enough.)

(The universe--and by universe I mean the writers--definitely didn't pull any punches. My sibling has suggested it's because he turned eighteen and he's now fair game for heavy angst. In which case this might be the worst coming-of-age ceremony ever.)

5. The Hero Trio: The hero, the best friend, and the other best friend whom he also kisses is a fun dynamic. MJ and Ned embody the classic struggle for a superhero's close friends: I understand the danger, I understand how important saving the world is, but you're more important to me and I would rather save you first. But I don't want you to compromise your core beliefs either, because I know how important saving people is to you. (And I hate not being able to help you when you need it.)

This Peter Parker finally gets his own unique, narratively weighted kiss scene in this movie, which I thought was iconic. The lighting, the silhouettes--

(When Ned and MJ remember Peter again, they'll have every right to be angry at him for breaking his promise and not coming to them with the truth. It was such a noble Peter Parker decision, but he was also recently traumatized and not in the best place when he cut off all support systems. Peter's next character development stage might be relearning to accept the need for support systems when you're superheroing. Friendship is magic, bro.)

6. Side-note on GEDs: As someone who also graduated high school through a GED and went to community college, I really appreciate the representation we got. Life isn't over when you can't finish high school or get into a prestigious college. Things might not always go how you expect, but that's still okay. Look, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman's doing this too, and it doesn't change the fact that he's a freaking genius.

7. Concluding Note: Good luck, Peter Parker. You've still got a whole lot of life ahead of you. You're gonna be amazing. Lots of love and support, from your friendly neighbor.

8. Several devastating tweets I saw from Korean Twitter (where my bilingual alter-ego lives), summarized in no particular order: A spiderman's fall is not entirely a tragedy, for it is also his completion--and like the repetitive rise and fall of his web-swinging, he's all about the fall and the getting back up again. Spidey can't fly without the fall.

Being in the MCU allowed this Spidey to have more mentor figures, which magnifies the loss that much more when they're all stripped away and we see him stand on his own. It's almost like the audience gets to witness the MCU Spiderman's happiest moments in the first and second films of his trilogy, then the third film is the beginning of his comic book run in earnest. Peter Parker can never return Home, but returning to films 1 and 2 after watching 3 should make for some nostalgic reminiscing for viewers at home.

Also, if Peter got erased from the world's collective memory, he might be taken for a Blip victim (which he actually was). Which means Aunt May's charity for Blip victims might've helped him settle back into a world that has forgotten him. (Good deeds, butterfly effects.)

Oh, and only May and Tony will remember Peter Parker as Spiderman.

[eddiesblklvr]

one last time

pairing: college!fratboy!harry x blackwoman!oc

warnings: smut, mentions of food, sexual harassment, mentions of panic attacks, unprotected sex, angst

summary: paula just wants to love him one last time before she thinks she has to let him go

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i’m so proud of this i did it all in two days and i love it so much. i hope you all will too 💗 happy reading!

masterlist

seeing the love of your life move on was hard. it was even harder for paula because she didn’t know how to express her feelings.

paula and harry dated for two years and after a while, paula felt herself falling in love with him. she knew she was because she’d never felt anything like that before, and it scared her. she began to distance herself from harry, giving him his space, barley texting him or replying to his texts.

she didn’t think he’d noticed until he showed up at her door one day, eyes and nose wet, red, and puffy, giving away that he had been crying. the kiss he gave her as soon as she opened the door that let her know that he noticed.

“we can’t do this anymore,” harry said, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks. she knew that this would happen but she just couldn’t bring herself to except it.

“wha- yes we can,” she demands, cupping his hands over her cheeks.

“no, we can’t. we can’t and you know that. i can’t keep trying anymore when you won’t.”

“i am trying!” paula pauses, pulling her head back so that she could see him. “harry,” she calls when she sees him shaking his head at the floor.

“harry!” her voice cracks as a sob wracks through her body, her tears running uncontrollably down her cheeks. she places her hands on his chest and grips his shirt in her hands. harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his tight embrace. she clings to him instantly, thinking if she lets go even a little bit, that he’d leave her that instant.

now, six months after their dreadful break up, paula has started working on herself to be a better person for no only herself, but for the people around her as well.

she driving to a nearby coffee shop on her way home from her therapy session before she went home. she’s sitting in a booth with her phone in her hand and an airpod in her ear, scrolling through tiktoks as she drinks her coffee and eats her food. she’s seated by the blind-covered window, which she liked because no one could see her from the outside.

paula heard the bell ring at the door, alerting everyone that someone had just walked in. she wasn’t interested in who had come in, until she heard a very familiar laugh. she lifts her head, and sure enough, she does know who the laugh belongs to. she obsessed over it for over two years (still does, actually).

it’s harry’s.

it was like time had slowed down as the two of them make eye contact. paula’s eyes trail from harry’s to the group of people he’s with until they fall upon the smiling girl under his arm.

she stares at her for longer than she should, until she feels tears gather in her waterline, causing her to tear her eyes away. the girl was pretty, nice long brown hair, tan skin, pretty green eyes.

she doesn’t do anything, just pretends she never saw them and continues on with what she was doing, although she could feel her heart breaking.

after the group orders and sits down at a table, out of the corner of her eye, she notices some of them staring at her while they whisper to each other. she looks over at them and raises her brow, silently asking what it is that they want. she sees the girl she assumes is harry’s new girlfriend roll her eyes and scoff at her.

“harry, you need to get your girlfriend, she’s staring,” the brunette says.

“you guys were staring first,” harry shrugs, not minding the fact that paula was called his girlfriend.

“so?”

“lex, just don’t.”

“why? she won’t do anything,” the girl, alexis, giggles in denial along with the two other people they’re with until harry looks down at her.

“i swear to you, if she wanted or has to, she would.” he turns his attention away from the delusional girl beside him. he now regrets ever speaking a word to her. he doesn’t know why he even tries to associate himself with these people, they always feel the need to one-up the “competition”, even though harry knew that no one could ever beat paula. he loves that girl to death, and he’s sure that he always will.

-

they don’t see each other again until a group of her friends are dragging her to the frat house for a party that they were throwing.

paula never really liked going to parties, she always felt pressured to drink or do drugs when she went — though she knows she never would if she didn’t want to, it was still overwhelming.

subconsciously, her eyes dance around everyone in search of harry, like they always did when they were together. she stops herself before she actually finds him, not wanting to hurt herself if she sees him with someone else.

she tries to hide away in the kitchen but sees a lot more people in there then she thought, the living room was filled with people dancing and kissing and grinding on each other, the front and back porches, as well and the backyard was full. every room she goes in, it feels like more and more people are in that room. she doesn’t want to hide in the bathroom because she would eventually have to leave once people needed to use it. as she searches for a room to hide in, she feels a body press against her and grope her back side.

she jumps forward and turns around to see a guy she has never seen before biting his lip to hide the satisfied grin he has, only for it to be wiped away once he feels a sharp stinging feeling on the side of his face. he then realizes that paula had slapped him.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?! don’t you ever put your hands on me!” before he could even respond or see her eyes glossing over with tears, she storms away from him and up the stairs. she almost runs up the stairs, not wanting him to know that she’s scared of what he could do. he’s drunk, groped a random girl, and that random girl slapped him for it, she’s scared that he’ll follow her up the stairs and try to do something worse.

she doesn’t realize but she’s speed walking down the hall and pushing open the door to harry’s room, locking the door once she’s inside. she’s breathing heavily, and the tears she was holding has fallen down her cheeks from the fear she felt a just a few seconds ago.

she steps back until her knees hit the bed in the middle of the room and sits down on it. she looks down at the bed and realizes that she ran into harry’s room.

“paula?” she yelps in surprise as she jumps off of the bed.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t realize that i ran in here. i’m sorry.” harry watches her from his closet doors, concern washing over him as he sees her crying and on the verge of a panic attack. with quick strides, he walks over to her, throwing the shirt that was in his hands onto the bed, leaving him shirtless.

“no, it’s okay,” he reassures her, wiping away her tears as soon as he’s in front, “what’s wrong? why’re you crying?”

everything’s wrong. i’m crying because nothing’s right anymore.

she wants to say that but instead she says, “um, nothing. i’m okay now.”

harry makes a sound of disapproval as he brings her into his chest, his hands resting on the back of her head and on her back, “please, just tell me what happened.”

paula rubs her nose over the familiar soft skin, wondering if she should tell the truth or not.

“do you mean from a few minutes ago or the last nine months?” her answer doesn’t shock harry, but it does hurt him. now he doesn’t want to know what’s wrong, he’ll find that out later. harry pulls back a little to look down at her, despite the desperate whimper she lets out. he rests his hands on both of her cheeks, causing her to look up at him. harry’s eyes look between her eyes and her lips, debating whether or not he should give into the urge to kiss her, biting his bottom lip as he looks over the rest of her face while silently making a decision.

ultimately, he gives into the urge, gently leaning down until their foreheads are pressed together. they stand still for a moment until he ducks down and presses their lips together. there’s no hunger or aggression behind it, it’s just full of love and emotions that they couldn’t tell each other before.

as harry’s hands travel down her arms and onto her waist, her’s are around his neck playing with the short hairs on the back of his head. harry pulls her body closer to his once he feels her lightly tug at his hair and whimper against his lips.

“please,” paula mumbles, just loud enough for harry to hear, “please, harry. just one last time.”

“baby, calm down,” he tells her, his voice noticeable deeper, his fingers going underneath her shirt and slowly dragging it up her body, “i’ve got you.”

everything happens so fast yet so slow. harry kisses almost every inch of her body, licks into her until she’s writhing and crying out for him to slow down. he fucks her slowly and passionately, letting them both savor the feeling of each other. paula’s sobbing, and moaning, and squirming around on the bed, she feels so pleasantly overwhelmed.

there’s no dirty talk or any rough movements, just harry placing kiss after kiss onto her skin while he slowly fucks deep into her. paula let’s put a choked cry that turned into a moan at the end, harry quietly grunts out, “i know, baby, i know,” suckling marks on the skin of her neck that his face is buried into.

when they’re done, paula’s still crying. it worries harry a little because she’s usually okay after crying during sex. harry rolls off of her and onto the spot beside her on the bed, pulling her trembling body into his arms and letting her cry into his neck. he presses kisses to her forehead, rubs her back, runs his hands through her hair, just touching her to let her know that he was there to help her calm down.

“what’s the matter, love? hm?”

paula takes a few deep breaths before deciding to come clean, “i love you. so much, and i didn’t get to tell you before you left me, and i know that’s my fault. i was just scared that if i told you, i’d fuck everything up so i started avoiding you, but i didn’t mean to, honestly. i just didn’t know what else to do. i’m sorry, i love you.” once again, she’s hysterical. she thought she’d gotten over those feelings when she talked to her therapist about them. harry didn’t reply until she was calm again.

“you don’t have to explain anything to me, just don’t ever distance yourself from me again, okay?” harry’s voice is smooth and soothing, which helps settle her nerves.

“okay.”

they both knew that it would take some time, but they would eventually be okay, even if it was only supposed to be the last time they had each other.

[getosubaru]

It’s such a long walk when you got somewhere to be; I just thought maybe you were gonna walk with me (chapter four)

story summary: MC decides all of the student council is going to therapy and hell hath no fury like a prepared human. They’ve got highlighters and they’re not afraid to use them.

chapter summary: MC is really going through it.

pairing: Lucifer/reader

rating: m

chapter wc: 3.3k

a/n: Please keep the theme of this story in mind before you read on. This may get uncomfortable, especially if you have any past history with trauma. In my opinion, no one would be fine and dandy after what MC experienced in season 1. There will be fluff and comedy in this story, but “angst with a HEA” means we have to suffer too.

warnings: angst & trauma; small text only for description; gn!reader; possible spoilers; not proofread/betaread; mental breakdowns

title taken from “therapy” by dresage & g smith

previous | series masterlist

An email to your professors gets you out of class for the day. Just a common cold, nothing serious, but you’re unfortunately too sick to get out of bed. Luckily, none of your professors are there when you turn your music up too loud and dance around the kitchen making breakfast. 

Your housemates took it with far less grace, complaining and whining when you texted the group chat and promptly fell back asleep. It might’ve been ignoring their follow-up texts that actually irritated them the most.

With the house to yourself for once, you take the opportunity to do a bit of selfcare. Laundry gets done, a face mask gets put on, and the show you’ve been binging gets turned on. The past few days have left you drained. 

More like the last year, really. The emotional labor you’ve put in is so much more than the average person could be expected to manage. It wasn’t just Lucifer that spawned your desire to shove everyone in counseling. And now, somehow, you’re still meant to pull weight. 

Stamping your feet and yelling about how unfair it all is wouldn’t be productive, but you’re about at your limit.

You haven’t had to go to every meeting. Mammon, the twins, and Satan seem to have managed just fine without you. Lucifer is scheduled today, as well as the rest of the Fantastic Three. None of them are likely to ask for handholding. 

Diavolo might, you suppose as you rinse your mask off. You text him the offer just in case and then smack yourself on the forehead for making more work for yourself when you’re already run down. This is why you’re in this situation in the first place. 

Your D.D.D. buzzes in your hand, cutting off your self-chastising. 

“MC?” 

You sit down on your bed and contemplate faking sickness. “Rissa, hi.”

“How are you doing?” she asks. “I ran into Beel in the library and he said you’re sick.” 

Damn him. Rat traitor tattling on you. 

“I’m okay. Just a cold, I think.” 

Rissa hums and you can almost hear the skeptical twist of her lips. It takes everything in your power not to spit out more lies. One of the biggest mistakes made when trying to deceive someone is talking more than you need to. You keep your mouth shut and wait for her to make the next move. 

She takes the bait. “I just wanted to check that you weren’t feeling too run down from attending sessions with your housemates. It can be stressful when you haven’t had training in separating yourself from others’ trauma.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s a bit late for that,” you say before you can stop yourself. 

“I’m always here to talk or listen if you need.” Her voice is calm, patient. “I noticed you’re not scheduled for an individual session.” 

You’re angry at her for her composure and politeness. You’re angry at the unspoken suggestion that you need to talk things out with her. As if you haven’t managed everything just fine for the last year. The death threats, the murder attempts, the one that succeeded. 

“I spoke with Solomon earlier,” continues Rissa as if you aren’t seething. “He said that sometimes pacts with high-ranking demons, especially avatars, can affect human moods if they aren’t careful about it.”

“Interesting.” 

She laughs; the sound irritates your ears. “That’s what I said! Apparently, there was a period where every time Asmo—“

“Rissa, I’m so sorry, but I really need to lay down. I think a migraine’s coming on,” you interrupt. 

“Of course. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll see you tomorrow with Belphegor?” 

You confirm with her and manage a goodbye that doesn’t sound acidic. A dark, pissed-off thread still feels coiled around your throat. Your fingers fumble the touchscreen of your D.D.D. as you try to hit call, narrowly avoiding deleting his contact altogether. 

“Satan, get your ass home now.” 

The fourth-born paces the length of your room. He argued against bringing Solomon into it, though they are allegedly friends. His trust doesn’t stretch far enough to involve the sorcerer. 

“What time exactly did you say Rissa called you?” asks Satan.

“Half-past nine, according to the call log,” you reply without looking up from the book in your lap. “It hasn’t changed since the first time you asked.” 

“I was in the alchemy lab then.” If he keeps up his path, you might end up with an interesting groove worn into your floor. That would be treacherous to navigate in the morning. 

“You weren’t around Lucifer, your project was behaving, and your partner wasn’t in class,” you say, ticking off the points with your fingers. “Therefore, you had no reason to be mad.” 

The book he produced from the fire hazard he calls a room isn’t offering you anything you don’t know about pacts. It’s light on information regarding the avatars, which is a given considering how rare pacts with them are. Even Mammon only makes one or two a century—except for when he’s tricked by covens of witches, you suppose. 

As far as you’re aware, you are the only human to ever hold pacts with Lucifer, Satan, and Levi. No one has managed to fill out the bingo card with all seven.

You slam the book shut and toss it to the side. “Sit down before you make me dizzy.”

“I just don’t get why you would be experiencing this without reason,” he groans before, thankfully, sitting next to you on your bed. “Have you had feedback from any of the others?” 

You scan over the last week in your mind, looking for any emotions that felt off in the same way. It’s normal to get some echo from your pacts; while not as strong as the twins’ shared connection, you can sometimes feel the pact marks react to the avatars’ own sins. But never in a manner that made you question your own emotions. 

The heat under Lucifer’s pact mark at the meeting sticks out. That’s how the pacts should function theoretically. 

“No, not like this,” you say after a long moment. 

“It just doesn’t make sense.”

You stretch out to kick at his side. “Don’t get pissy. That’s the last damn thing we need.” 

Satan apologizes, taking deep and measured breaths. His control over his sin has always impressed you, though you know it was hard-won through centuries of work. Of all the brothers, he’s the one who’s always seemed the least affected by his nature. 

The “youngest” three move at the whims of their sins. Days will pass where the only reason you know Belphie is even alive is the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Poor Beel, constantly chastised and mocked, has described the hunger he feels like a clawing chasm ripping at his stomach. When you’re in so much pain all the time, you’d do anything to make it stop. 

You know less about Asmo’s experiences. Sometimes he’ll be gone for over a week, only to come back glowing with a radiance that could set the sun to shame. No one talks about where he’s been; the one time you asked, Satan told you some parties aren’t safe for humans and refused to elaborate. 

Levi and Mammon fare only a bit better in your opinion. Kleptomania and intense self-loathing are not traits usually associated with healthy stability. In Levi’s case, his envy nearly resulted in your death—over a book series. And if you’ve found Mammon rifling through your things for something to sell once, you’ve found him a hundred times. It took invoking his pact to get him to stop. 

For all his power and composure, Lucifer is the most affected. Does he even realize it? How much of that stubborn, arrogant assumption of omnipotence was there before he fell? He works himself into the ground to keep the illusion of perfection alive. The standards he sets for himself—for his brothers—are unrealistic at best. He demands flawlessness and has the audacity to be surprised when it always results in failure. 

Knowing his behavior stems from love and fear just makes your heart hurt all the more when you see the hollows under his eyes purple and his shoulders slump from exhaustion.

Satan has only lost control once around you. Well, twice, if you consider the scene of your murder. Before you approached them and announced you were alive, he nearly took Belphie’s head off with his own hands.

“Stop,” orders Satan suddenly. “What was that?” 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and turn to him. “What?”

“Whatever you were just brooding about,” he says, reaching over to tap your pact mark. To your shock, it’s oven-hot on your skin.

Oh. Wait.

“We’re fucking stupid.” 

Satan reels back, glaring a bit at your words. His expression morphs into concern when you start to laugh. Full, loud guffaws heave out of your chest until you’re curled in on yourself and clutching your stomach. 

“MC?” 

“It’s—“ Your cheeks ache from how wide you’re smiling. “It’s not you.”

There is nothing funny about it and you can’t stop laughing. Satan looks more alarmed by the second.

“What are you talking about?” 

Your giggles take a desperate tone, while tears run down your face. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you start to sob. 

Satan calls your name but you’re no longer hearing him. It’s Belphie’s voice drawling the familiar syllables before snapping your neck. Levi screeches it with his claws drawn and Lotan at his back. Lucifer’s voice, low and musical, calls you beautiful before he threatens your life. A friendly chuckle from Diavolo wraps around your name as he informs you of your kidnapping—sorry, exchange program. 

Two arms wrap around you, bringing you back to the present. There’s shouting in the hallway but it’s muffled by the bulk of whoever is holding you. You inhale harshly, fisting your hands in thick, fine fabric. 

Leather and smoke. 

His hold is tight, firmer than should be comfortable. Your lungs should feel restricted, but the compression might be the only thing keeping your chest together. It’s everything else that hurts more anyway. He’s here and you can’t stop crying and you’re small—tiny and fragile compared to these giants you’ve been trying to prop up with weak, mortal hands.

Lucifer’s voice rumbles against you as he tells someone to get Simeon. The sounds of the others shut off with your door snapping closed. It’s just him kneeling on your bed with you clutched tight to his chest. The ridiculous buttons of his stupid uniform coat dig into your face but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

He murmurs nonsense into your ear, soothing and gentle words meant to calm, though the exact meanings are lost as you try to quiet down. It hurts. Your eyes ache, your face is swollen, and your ribs feel as if they’re about to snap with each gasping sob. 

Cool hands press against your face, dry until they meet the tears spilling down your cheeks. The shock of his bare skin on yours is enough to make you open your eyes. You can’t see much, smushed as you are, but the familiar black of his coat eases something in you. Lucifer always takes care of things, he can fix it, he looks out for those he considers his—your inclusion in that category has been made quite clear. 

Not long after Belphegor’s release, you and the eldest grew closer. The lengths you were willing to go to for his family meant everything to him. You were one of them. A space in the tapestry of the seven of them was reserved for you, weaving the family together when the threads seemed liable to fall apart. Lucifer preferred the metaphor of glue on shattered pottery, but that was a bit too pessimistic in your opinion. 

“Make a pact with me,” he said against your shoulder. 

You twisted away from the fire to look at him. “Demanding,” you teased. 

He smiled, soft and gentle. How brilliant red could look so warm was a mystery to you. Where you once saw hard rubies or the spill of blood there were only roses, delicate and blooming. 

“Yours, just as much as you are mine.”

He hadn’t lied, had he? Lucifer’s pact mark stands proud on the center of your chest, just below the dip of your collarbone. Glaringly conspicuous, of course, but it’s better than your forehead. 

Lucifer thumbs over the swirling lines just as he had when they first appeared. The visible, tangible proof of your connection is something he’s grown mildly obsessed over. Whenever you’re in arm’s reach in private, his fingers find their way there. It’s a familiar ritual you find comfort in and your harsh bawling subsides under the motion. He doesn’t let go after you calm down, just settles against your headboard with you in his lap. 

“You’re wearing your shoes in my bed,” you croak. The offended tone you intended gets lost with the rough state of your throat. 

He huffs a dark laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you scare the hell out of me.” 

“How—“ You cough to clear your throat. His coat is soaked with your tears and snot already that one cough isn’t going to do any more damage.

“You threw us all into quite a panic. It was like a sudden tsunami.” He’s quiet and there’s a tremble at the edge of his voice. “I was walking to class and just went to my knees because my chest felt like it cracked open.” 

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Lucifer’s grip on you tightens for a moment before he pulls you back to look at your eyes. “No. Don’t do that right now.” 

There’s no escaping the intense vehemence of his stare. It tunnels into you with a fire that doesn’t hurt. The ferocity lingers even after you close your eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to worry everyone.”

He sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and tucking you back under his chin. “Simeon will be here soon. He’ll look you over and make sure there isn’t anything that needs healing.”

“Why Simeon?” His avoidance of his former brother isn’t exactly a secret.

“Celestial magic is more attuned to healing,” he says simply. “It’s just a precaution.” 

His tone leaves no room for argument, not that you intend to give him a fight on this. It will make him and the others feel better. And Simeon might be able to fix the headache you feel coming on. It’s Lucifer’s next demand that stirs rebellion in you.

“You’re sitting down with Rissa tomorrow. I’ve already gotten you excused from classes.”

“Lucif—“

Three light taps on your door keep you from giving him a piece of your mind. His savior appears in the form of a concerned Simeon. The angel slips in the room, batting away a ring-laden hand that tries to yank on the door frame. 

“Goodness, MC. You’ve got them all in a state,” says Simeon. 

Someone yelps behind the now-shut wooden door, confirming the chaos that waits in the rest of the house.

You scoot back from Lucifer’s chest and settle next to him on the bed. While there was nothing indecent in the way he was holding you, Simeon’s presence makes you feel a bit…guilty. Damn angels and their aura of purity, though you know your friend is nothing of the sort. What you learned in a round of “Never Have I Ever” at the castle has totally dissuaded you from the idea.

“Have to keep them on their toes.” You shrug with a levity you don’t feel. 

Simeon approaches your bed slowly, making every movement known. His caution probably has less to do with you than the demon sitting between you both. “May I?” He gestures at your head. 

You nod and wince, immediately regretting the action as your headache throbs. 

Lucifer tenses when Simeon reaches across him to lay one soft palm on your forehead. A pleasant warmth radiates from where he touches you, sliding over you like the sudden appearance of the sun on a dreary day. Your eyes drift shut and you sigh as the pain in your head and face recedes. The heat spreads down your neck to your knotted shoulders, uncoiling the tension in your muscles. Even the bruise on your hip from where you bounced off the kitchen counter vanishes. 

“Anything serious?” asks Lucifer.

You contemplate snapping at him for daring to interrupt your daze. The magic soothes the muscles in your calves and saps all of your irritation out of you. Simeon laughs quietly when you hum. 

“Only a human who needs to carry lighter bags on campus and get better shoes.”

“Definitely dire then.” Relief coats Lucifer’s voice.

Simeon’s magic retreats gradually, but an echo of the warmth remains. You blink a few times, feeling like you’ve just woken up. All of the swelling is gone, leaving no trace of your earlier breakdown behind. 

“Whoa,” you breathe. Is it too late to transfer to Purgatory Hall? 

Lucifer clears his throat to gain your attention back. He’s trying to hide a pout with his lips pressed together, but the pinch of his brows gives him away. “Better?” 

“I think he just fixed problems I didn’t even know I had,” you say, stretching your arms above your head and twisting them around. 

“Celestial healing magic can be a bit intrusive,” explains Simeon with a sheepish grin. “Sorry I didn’t warn you.” 

Before you can ask him to stay longer and tell you exactly what he just did (or ask him to stay forever), Lucifer rises from the bed and thanks Simeon for coming. The dismissal is clear and the angel just shoots you a smile. You shake your head at Lucifer’s antics. It would be annoying if you were capable of feeling annoyed right now. 

When Simeon’s gone, Lucifer turns to your gently swaying form. “Do you feel up to lunch with everyone?” 

“It’s probably best to get it over with,” you reply. “Especially since I think several governments would classify Simeon as a controlled substance.” 

“Remind me to tell him you said that,” he snorts. 

Five pairs of hands pat and poke at you when you emerge into the dining room with Lucifer close on your heels. Even Leviathan snags one of your pinkies with his. Asmo and Mammon are the most obviously worried, both near tears and trying to fit inside your skin. 

“Enough,” snaps Lucifer when Belphie drapes himself across your shoulders. “Either respect the concept of personal space or I will make you.” 

They all jump back at the venom in his voice, appearing properly scolded. Satan isn’t among their numbers. The fourth-born leans against the wall almost across the room from you. His rigid stance is only highlighted by his tail coiled closely around his leg. You step away from the others and peer at him with wide eyes.

“Hey, I’m okay.”

His eyes flash with the harsh green you’ve come to associate with him. He doesn’t move from his spot, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “Are you?”

Several hands try to pull you back from the rageful, shaking demon. They always doubt his control. 

“Stop,” you order with the full weight of the pacts. 

If you let them snatch you back and coddle you, he’ll never believe that you trust him again. 

Satan tilts his head as his brothers flinch back from you. He stays still, watching you cross the room to stand toe-to-toe with him. Instinct screams in protest—warning you from launching yourself at danger and wrapping your arms around him. Logically, he should be the biggest threat in the house to you. 

But Wrath embodied hugs you back and tears drip onto your neck.

taglist: @inb4belphienaps @bunnaccino @simeonsaysobeyme @abberant-butler @velaris-citizen-in-devildom @stormberrie @silentlyunlucky @ice-icebaby @jadedrogue3​

a/n: if you want to be added to the taglist, shoot me an ask! (and if you want to be removed don't feel bad just let me know)

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes:  Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged) 

@mionemymind​ / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy. 

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card. 

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression. 

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way. 

You grumble  as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets. 

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers. 

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group. 

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh. 

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit. 

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed. 

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe. 

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today."  He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture. 

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have."  You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments. 

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside. 

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee. 

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today. 

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity. 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman.  "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear. 

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile. 

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you. 

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is." 

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor. 

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down." 

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked. 

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom. 

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

[kitacco]

sunrise.

pairing: fem!reader, gojo satoru.

genre: angst with happy ending.

summary: time doesn’t always heal.

cw: mention of manipulation, violence.

wordcount: 4.1k.

! part two of clouds !

the sky is clear when you look up into the sky. even though the sun is not out, and instead, the sky is covered with grey clouds, you still like to believe it’s clear.

he made you believe that the first time you two met.

it wasn’t like you were escaping from reality, he simply thought if there was something you could change, then you should. you believed him, after so long.

how could you describe how he makes you feel? you had never felt it before. he felt like the orange sky adorned by the full sun, illuminating the grass and bringing warmth to the body despite the breeze. was that an exaggeration? probably, he didn’t think so, though. he made you believe you could rewrite reality with only your imagination.

meeting him was fate. he told you that, you thought it was sheer coincidence and two people on the right place. he was a little more romantic than you, though.

you had been to therapy for about two years.

things weren’t easy, and honestly, you wished you could forget about it.

your therapist assured you it wasn’t your fault - it took you a while to understand that.

you were aware that it wasn’t entirely your fault, what happened was a casualty, sadly, an experience you had to go through, but also a lesson you had the opportunity to learn from. it wasn’t easy, you understood that after a year of one session every month. you cried a lot, more than what you expected, and you felt responsible. because, if you hadn’t fallen for him, everything would’ve turned out well.

you were quick to learn that your emotions shouldn’t make you guilty, instead, who was to blame was him.

after a while, you finally accepted it.

gojo never contacted you after everything happened. you wanted to go on with your life like he most likely was, however, you were incapable of creating any type of relationship with people. what used to be a big group of friends became one, and what used to be exciting became scary. your friends, then, insisted you visited a therapist. you didn’t want to, at first. if anything, you wished you could simply erase the situation from your brain for the rest of your life, but how could you when subconsciously you failed to move on? your friend and her husband moved away, and so did you. she left the city while you moved to the other end of the city. not necessarily because you wished to avoid him; your therapist thought it was better to forge relationships from zero. 

another year passed, and he had completely vanished from your life. you hadn’t told your new roommate about it, but you knew your friend had before you moved in. you didn’t mind. you knew she was trying to protect you. but, it’s not like he’d ever come around again - that you believed so.

you didn’t exactly know how you met him. maybe it really was fate, like he said once. only eleven months after the incident, you were still incapable of communication. leaving your house was scary and worrisome for anything other than therapy, so you didn’t tend to visit places much often. during the time, you were still leaving at your old apartment. your friend insisting on you moving on had already convinced you of leaving the building, and that day you were finally taking the boxes out.

you met by the stairs. a box had fallen from your hands straight to his feet.

as much as you apologized, he only smiled, assuring you he was alright.

and that was it.

you met him again on your way to your therapist. it was all too similar, you thought to yourself. he happened to have a friend living in the same building as you (he was literally your next door neighbor), and you were starting to open up to people a little more. you knew his friend, as much as one knows a neighbor. the guy was nice and he always gave your roommate eyes - she genuinely didn’t mind him.

you told your therapist about it the other day. and the next day, the guy was knocking at your door.

you remembered how nice having company felt. your roommate worked all day, while you only stayed at home. unable to properly work just yet, you only worked in the mornings at a coffee shop. it was safe and easy for you most of the times, only having to wipe tables and greet costumers. you didn’t complain.

he told you he had just gone to see his friend and happened to be curious about you. his eyes were a little intense but there was something about the tone of his voice and shakiness of his smile that managed to make you feel at peace.

besides your roommate, he became someone you could trust.

things didn’t go as quickly as it would’ve normally. you had never invited him inside your house alone, but when your roommate was there, you would let him inside. he would always visit with sweets or a cup of coffee for you. 

it’s like everything repeated itself once again in some extent.

after hanging out with your roommate and him, his friend started tagging alone. the guy was sweet and funny, and in less than three weeks he managed to get your roommate to go on a date with you.

that was the first time the two of you spent alone.

you’d thought by that time you were over it. you were quick to understand there were some wounds that no matter how much you tried, would leave scars that still hurt.

but he didn’t mind waiting all the time in the world for you, and he let you know that.

looking back, you finally realized what real love truly was. he was what real love felt like.

small touches, assuring words, constant communication. silence wasn’t needed with him, and your eyes never spoke more than what words did.

you genuinely felt safe again.

gojo didn’t mean this to happen. after the yelling of your friend and the end of the friendship with his friend, gojo decided he was done with you forever.

so then, why was he involuntarily following you around the store?

he had no other intentions than to look at you for one last time. it had been a while, and he was genuinely curious about how you were doing. it was impossible to find anything about you, you had completely wiped yourself out from social media, and all your friends had blocked him too. that should’ve been enough for him to understand he wasn’t welcomed in your life anymore.

but then, why was he walking towards you? maybe for some closure, maybe to apologize, maybe only to say hi.

he couldn’t tell, but it was too late before he could make up his mind.

gojo tapped your shoulder quietly in the snacks aisle. he didn’t feel nervous, tense, or uneasy, almost as if the two of you were old friends that happened to meet again after so long, picking up the friendship where it had been left off. gojo was quick to realize that wasn’t the case, though.

“gojo!” you exclaimed, jumping at his sight.

had he always been that tall?

“it’s been a while,” he chuckled, looking back at your cart full. “you got a lot there, huh? you live closeby?”

gojo didn’t waste any time, pressing a hand against your cart, trapping you.

“no,” you’re quick to answer.

one of gojo’s eyebrows raises, and you look around, hoping someone can notice your state. 

“oh, then you like this store? it has more things than the others around the city, i guess-”

“i’m sorry, gojo, i’m busy and need to finish this as fast as i can, but it was nice seeing you again!”

gojo’s gaze stays on your figure as you run off with your cart. he knows you’re lying, but which two was a lie? he didn’t know.

gojo should’ve taken the hint.

he walks out of the store, noticing the clouds turn darker than they were before. he’s deliberately waiting for you outside, hoping he can get you to talk a little more. was he curious about you? not really. was he wishing he could get you back?

perhaps.

you step out of the store with the cart full of bags, and gojo approaches you fastly, startling you once again.

“need a ride?”

“oh, no, thank you,” you decline, pulling the bags out of the cart.

“then let me help you to your car,” he proposes, reaching out for one of your bags.

“no!” you exclaim, grabbing them faster than he could. “i-it’s fine, there’s a station right there so it’s fine.”

“oh no, are you silly? so many bags on the train, you’re in a rush and it’ll more likely rain? c’mon, i’ll drive you home.”

you decline his offer again, your mind running wild. it’s not that you didn’t want to accept his generosity, but suddenly all the fears you once thought were buried floated to the surface again. suddenly it felt like all the progress you had made the past years was being ripped out of your consciousness. 

“please, gojo, trust me, it’s fine,” you insist, grabbing onto your bags and trying to walk away. you look around, hoping someone sees the two of you, hoping someone would stop him. but no one is around, and no one but you can stop this.

but when you see gojo again, you finally understand it was never your fault.

gojo manages to get through you, and now you’re seated by his side as he mindlessly drives through the city. you texted your boyfriend the moment you got inside his car, telling him you were coming to his place and asking him to wait for you a few streets away. he instantly called you, but too nervous, you declined the call. you didn’t want gojo to know any more about your personal life, nor know you had moved away. if anything, you wanted gojo to disappear.

but could you tell him that?

“feels like the old times,” gojo mutters over the music on the radio.

like the old times?

an inexplicable feeling rises up your chest, yet you stay silent, wishing the ride was over. gojo would occasionally eye you, and everything would feel too familiar. 

only that this time the tables had turned. because you realized you hated gojo’s guts, and he realized he loved you dearly. 

“we should, hang out, again,” he mutters.

“i don’t think i can,” you speak, this time, your voice doesn’t falter, and gojo turns to face you.

“you got a boyfriend?”

“no,” you retort. “i’m busy.”

“you’ve always been busy, can’t you make some time for me again?”

you don’t answer. you knew too well, that if you say a word, you’ll explode. and as capable you thought you were of getting back to him, you could also remember clearly everything gojo had done to you. you don’t think it was worth the risk, trying to speak your heart out with someone like gojo.

he would never understand; he never wanted to. and he didn’t deserve to either.

“it’s here,” you announce, and gojo stops abruptly.

he frowns once he sees the man approaching his car, and you’re quick to jump out, telling him the bags were in the back. gojo steps out of the car too.

“hey, nice to meet you,” he says, and your boyfriend looks at you. “you’re his friend?”

“she’s my girlfriend.”

your breath hitches and you’re quick to grab his hand, distracting him from gojo’s conversation.

your boyfriend wasn’t an impulsive guy. he’s thoughtful and caring, fast to understand any situation he’s in front of.

but gojo is the complete opposite, and by experience, you know no one can go against gojo, no matter how hard they try.

“oh, that’s nice,” gojo taps the top of his car as he watches the two of you grabbing the bags. “i can help you carry some bags upstairs, if needed so.”

“it’s fine, thank you,” your boyfriend responds for you.

your boyfriend grabs your hand along the bags and walks towards the building gojo knows too well.

for your surprise, gojo doesn’t insist, and when you look back, he’s already inside the car, watching the two of you enter the building.

after that incident, you once again were incapable of leaving your apartment. and you didn’t want your boyfriend to leave his either.

gojo surely had changed, you noticed that the day you two met again. he looked taller, stronger, and unnerving. even though the two of you had been friends for many years, gojo was still unpredictable. you learnt that the last years of friendship you two shared.

“can i help you’” your boyfriend speaks.

gojo is at the other side of the door, in what was once your building, and outside what was once your apartment.

he cocked his eyebrows, incapable of hiding the smile creeping up his face.

“oh, you live together? that’s sweet,” gojo comments.

your boyfriend doesn’t respond, closing the gap between his body and the door so gojo couldn’t see indie his house, “yeah, what you want?”

“well, my birthday is coming and i thought maybe the three of us could celebrate it together. i don’t know if she told you, but we’re really good friends.”

your boyfriend nods, of course you haven’t.

“i don’t think we can, the both of us work.”

“oh, yeah? well, she always manages to make time for me, maybe i could ask her personally since you’re acting quite weird,” gojo tries again, his hand pressing against the surface of the white door.

“no, i’ll ask her and we’ll let you know.”

“fine, i’ll wait for your answer by saturday, if not, maybe i’ll come back,” gojo mutters, smirking.

your boyfriend wasn’t an aggressive guy. but, hell, he wished he could punch his face so bad.

he didn’t tell you anything about gojo’s visit nor invitation. you were already having a pretty bad time, you didn’t need more pressure put on your shoulders.

he genuinely thought he’d made the best decision - yet, he couldn’t help feel intimidated by the figure he happened to constantly meet.

gojo always told him it was a coincidence. he didn’t believe him, and fast enough, he started to understand your emotions. there was something eerie about the guy.

in no time, gojo had managed to push him against a wall. your boyfriend noticed what gojo claimed was coincidence was, indeed, his following, and too scared of him finding out you, in fact, didn’t live with him, your boyfriend started lying to you, claiming he had too much work and that he couldn’t go visit you. you facetimed and called each other often, but sadly, you felt uneasy, and your boyfriend knew too.

but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you.

“so, you made up your mind?”

your boyfriend stands at the other side of the door, startled by the tall white haired man. he’s smiling, as always, feigning a kind gesture as if the two of them were friends. 

“sorry man,” your boyfriend speaks up. is his voice shaking? “we couldn’t get a break from work.”

“oh, that’s unfortunate,” gojo clears his throat, smiling again. “then maybe you guys can pick a day and we can meet then.”

your boyfriend observes him, eyes darker despite the blue orbits. his tapping his feet against the floor, unable to read gojo, and he, simply smiles. he knows he’s made your boyfriend nervous, and suddenly, he’s reminded of you.

no wonder you’d get with a guy like that.

gojo knew he couldn’t let you, though, you couldn’t stay with a guy like him.

how could he protect you if something ever happened to you? this guy was so easy to manipulate. it didn’t take more than a faint punch and the closing door for him to lose his composure in front of gojo. wasn’t your boyfriend supposed to be strong enough, like him perhaps? what was this guy gonna do if he were to be in front a situation like this again? he can’t seem to land a single hit on gojo, instead, receiving the other end. gojo expects him to put up a fight, maybe ask him to stop, but he doesn’t.

he wasn’t the man for you. gojo was, he just had to prove it to you.

snapping a picture, gojo sighed.

“guess i’ll have to show her what she’s missing, don’t you think?”

your boyfriend can’t stop him when he walks out of the door, and neither can he watch him, his vision too red, and the iron smell stir his insides.

gojo looks through the guy’s phone. who leaves their phone without a password? he was only proving gojo his unworthiness. this guy wasn’t made for you.

all he had to do now is let you know.

you hear knocking on your door. it’s late, your roommate is out with her boyfriend and your boyfriend didn’t tell you he was coming. still, hopefully, you walked to the door, expecting him to surprise you.

what did surprise you was gojo on the other side, with flowers on his hands.

“did i surprise you?”

it’s too fast, or maybe not, you don’t know. gojo casually enters your house, the place you had so long worked to keep safe. he leaves the flowers on the table, and approaches you, wrapping his arms around your figure.

you’re not shaking nor reacting, and gojo takes in your warmth.

oh, how much he missed you.

“i missed you so much,” he whispers in your ear. “did you miss me?”

you reach out for your phone on the back of your pants, carefully bringing it in front of you to quickly deal your boyfriend’s number.

a phone starts ringing, and it doesn’t take you long to recognize the ringtone.

“oh, someone’s calling,” gojo mentions, letting you go to check your boyfriend’s phone. it’s like he was expecting you to do so, answering the call like he hadn’t seen your caller id on the screen. “yes?”

“why do you have my boyfriend’s phone?”

“we happened to meet before i came here, nothing too serious, don’t worry,” gojo pats your head. “he was being an asshole, though, i guess i just had to prove him.”

you gasp when gojo brings up the phone to your face, “w-what did you do?”

“told you, i just wanted to make sure he was enough for you. he wasn’t, though, so i had to come let you know.”

only proves we’re made for each other, don’t you think?

you shake your hand, taking a step back.

“listen, listen gojo,” you start. your voice is firm and your trying to keep your cool too. gojo has many times proven what he’s capable of, and right now, you only wanted to at least postpone whatever he planned to do. “i think you should go home, it’s like, my roommates coming with her boyfriend, i don’t think it’s fine if they see you here.”

“you think? we can find out though.”

“no, i don’t think we should, so, let’s leave it here, we can meet tomorrow, okay? we can go have lunch together and catch up like old times.”

gojo laughs, shaking his head as he looks down to his hands.

“why are you treating me like i’m crazy?” he asks, and your breath hitches. you stop and watch his movements, suddenly the atmosphere turning colder. “because i’m in love with you?”

“i’m sorry, gojo—”

“is it wrong to be in love? are you really blaming me for my feelings?”

you can’t tell if he’s being honest or putting up an act. once again, he’s managed to get inside your head. you don’t have more options and your minds clouded, unable to find a proper solution to the situation, unable to end this.

“just give me one last chance, that’s all i ask from you.”

gojo knows you too well, too much for your own safety and sometimes for his own liking.

and so you find yourself sitting at a restaurant a few streets away from your apartment, waiting for gojo to arrive. you didn’t believe you’d made an irresponsible decision - in fact, this was the smartest way to handle the situation. your boyfriend pleaded you to not come. you could understand that, he’d finally met gojo and he’d sensed it; gojo was far stronger mentally and physically than you’d suspect. it was fine. you weren’t nervous or scared, no, because, if there was something your therapist had told you, was that, as long as you set your boundaries and knew your worth, you wouldn’t fall for his tactics anymore. you didn’t come here to make friends with him again or to assure him everything was okay, you were here to let him know it was over. plus, you had decided to give yourself a day to decide what exactly you were gonna tell him.

“didn’t expect you to come in so early,” he mutters, taking a seat in front of you. “you’re fifteen minutes—”

“let’s talk,” you interrupt.

gojo can sense it, you’ve changed. when he looks at you, he can tell you’re not that deer he’d used to hunt for.

he wants to tell you the truth - the one he’s made up in his head.

“i love you, i’m in love with you.”

it hasn’t been more than five minutes since he sat down. gojo notices the lack of reaction, the indifference in your face, and suddenly, he’s feeling nervous. he’s not good with words and you know that, yet you’re not reacting the way he’d pictured, imagined, last night. you’re not telling him you’re in love with him too and that you want to try again. you’re not smiling or reaching out to hold his hand on the table, or getting up to wrap your arms around his body. you stay in your place, with eyes boring into his, waiting for him to say something else.

but he’s got nothing else to say, “gojo, i don’t love you.”

gojo doesn’t like that, you can tell by the soft tapping of his shoes under the table. the restaurant is full and you know the last thing he wants to do is make a scene. because, if he were to do so, his true colors would show.

“how are you sure about that? is it because of your boyfriend?” gojo asks, leaning closer to you. “you know he’s not the one, you know he doesn’t make you feel the way i do.”

“gojo, everything is in the past,” you sigh, tilting your head, tired. “the both of us made bad decisions, played with each other, hurt each other, but that’s in the past and it should stay there.”

“no! i don’t want us to stay in the past, i need us right now,” gojo mutters, and if you didn’t know him well, you’d almost think he was pleading. “we’re meant to be.”

“we’re not!” you exclaim, now losing your patience. “we hurt each other, can’t you remember that? i let you play with me and manipulate me, and now that you’ve realized i did nothing but try to please you you’re suddenly feeling guilty! but things don’t work like that, gojo, mistakes like that can’t be embedded that easily. you have to take responsibility of your actions.”

“i never wanted to hurt you, i wanted you to be stronger—”

“and i am now, thanks to you,” you say. “thanks to what you did to me i’ve finally understand that i deserve better.”

“how do you know i can’t make it up to you?”

“because i won’t let you, because i’ve found somebody else that’ll make it up to me, and it’s not you.”

“one chance is all i’m asking—”

“you already had your one chance, and you wasted it.”

“then another one—”

you’re sure six months ago you’d fell for that. you’d wished to give gojo another chance. after all, no one was more special to you than he was. you could say, until this day, gojo was the most special person in your life. that didn’t mean you deserved to suffer to help him make it up to you. whatever he wanted wasn’t something healthy and neither of you deserved it. but it wasn’t your job to make gojo understand that, it wasn’t your responsibility to fix gojo.

gojo knew you had changed. he knew he didn’t have the right to come back in your life, nor were you supposed to help him embed things. still, he wished he could still have you by his side.

“it’s time to move on.”

because now, when he looks up at the sky early in the morning to watch the sunrise, he knows he wasn’t made to stay by your side.

[triptuckers]

The Necklace - Captain Rex

Request: no Pairing: Captain Rex x jedi!reader Summary: Five times you and Rex have given each other your necklace, and the one time you wear it for the last time Warnings: major character death!!, angst, mentions of serious injuries, burning, blood, bruises Word count: 3.2K A/N: I always wonder why do I do this to myself .. anyway, my brain made me write this and put it out there. I deeply apologise for this feel free to send me ur therapy bills TAG LIST (all star wars fics): @parker-natasha​ @romanoffstarkovs​ @just-deka​

One.

It’s quiet in the Temple. You have to admit it’s rarely crowded in the halls. The Temple is quite a large building, and not nearly enough Jedi to fill it. And even if there were, at least half would be off fighting the war.

You’re grateful for the time you get to spend at the Temple. The long hallways always calm you down. No matter how long you had been away, it always felt good to come home to the Temple where you’d grown up.

It’s the place where you learned the ways of the force, where you’d spent hours reading everything you could find on the Jedi and their ways. You’d meditated in the gardens countless of times, and you’d found your family.

But most importantly, you met Rex.

He knew just as well as everyone else attachment was against the Jedi code. Still, you were pulled to one another by some sort of feeling you couldn’t explain. It made you want to spend every moment you got with him.

As your relationship blossomed, you knew you had to talk about the restrictions. You didn’t like it, but there were just some rules you had to follow, for both yours and Rex’ sake.

It didn’t stop you from occasionally sending a flirtatious wink his way, if only to watch his cheeks flush as he tried to remain focused on his tasks.

You were desperate for some kind of affection outside the safe walls of your quarters. When you were on a planet near the Outer Rim, and you waited as they refuelled your ship, you took the opportunity to check out the local market.

You found a beautiful, handcrafted silver necklace, and you just couldn’t leave it behind. When you got back to Coruscant, you showed the necklace to Rex, and you noticed how much he loved it.

When you wanted to give the necklace to him, he declined, saying it looked too good on you, that he couldn’t take it from you. So, you made a promise. The one wearing the necklace would give it to the one who wasn’t wearing it whenever they saw them, with the promise they’d be there to wear it again next time you’d meet.

Your walk around the Temple takes you through the silent halls. You don’t really notice where you’re going, your mind wandering off to other places. You turn a corner and see a door opening in the distance.

A few Jedi, Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Mace and Yoda exit the room, followed by Rex and Cody. You smile at them and they all greet you as they go their separate ways.

Rex is deep in conversation with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Cody, but briefly stops when you pass him. He takes the necklace off and gives it to you with a smile. You return the smile as you put it on, and Rex continues his conversation with the others while you continue your walk, the necklace bouncing against your chest with every step you take.

Two.

You’ve done it a thousand times before, but landing near a battle is still something that could get your anxiety up. That creeping fear that a well aimed blaster shot could take out your engines and send you to the ground a lot faster than you intended, would never ease.

You hold on tight as the ship starts its landing.

The 501st and the 212th were already on the scene, fighting for their lives. Everyone had thought that they would manage, but that was before the Separatists sent in reinforcements. Because you and your men were closest, you received an urgent comm from Anakin and didn’t hesitate before gathering all of your men and heading towards their position.

Once you’ve landed and everyone has left the ship, you start giving out orders. Even though you’re not near the heat of the battle, you have to yell to be heard over the shouts and blaster shots from others.

You send your men to the frontlines while you take your second in command to look for the other generals and commanders.

As you’re running through the chaos, you’re contacting Anakin. Luckily, he responds almost immediately.

‘We saw your ship!’ he says loudly. ‘We’re on the right side, near the trees!’

‘Copy!’ you shout in your comm and you wave your second din command over, making for the tree line in the distance. You glance at the troopers as you’re running, trying to find Rex. He might be next to Anakin and Ahsoka, waiting for you to arrive. But you know Rex, and it’s also very possible he’s in the front lines.

It takes shorter than you expected to cross the battlefield. When you make it to the trees, you quickly spot your fellow Jedi, and Rex and Cody along with them.   Ahsoka is the first to notice you, and she waves at you as you’re running toward them.

You come to a halt in front of them, panting.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly.’ says Obi-Wan.

‘Yeah.’ you manage to say in between breaths. ‘What’s our status?’ you ask as you take off your necklace and blindly hand it to Rex, who is standing next to you.

‘We’re suffering a lot of casualties.’ says Ahsoka, not taking notice in you giving Rex the necklace.

‘You and your men are much needed.’ says Rex, and you turn to look at him. ‘We’re severely outnumbered.’ he says as he puts on the necklace.

‘We have a plan, though.’ says Anakin, and he starts explaining it.

Three.

It takes you a while to figure out what caused you to suddenly wake. You didn’t have any plans or meetings you had to attend to today, and you had planned on a relaxed morning of just staying in bed.

Your legs are tangled with Rex’, and one of his arms is swung across your stomach. Mornings like these are rare, and you wish you could stay like this forever.

No war, no pain or suffering, no Separatist this or Jedi business that. Just you and Rex, holding each other.

Occasionally, you hear soft snores coming from his side of the bed. You raise your hand to softly run it over his back. It’s only then, that you realise it isn’t his snores that woke you.

You comm is beeping furiously on the bedside table.

For one of the first times, you’re seriously considering just ignoring it. You didn’t have any plans today, you even declined Ahsoka’s offer of a training session, stating you needed your rest now that you didn’t have any formalities to attend. And with rest you meant staying in bed with Rex.

But what if it’s important? Says an annoying little voice in the back of your head.

You groan softly, reaching out to try and get a hold of your comm. You can’t reach it, but you also don’t dare to shift, scared of waking Rex. So instead, you use the Force and let your comm device land in the palm of your hand.

‘Yea?’ you say. It’s Anakin who answers.

‘Hey, Y/N, do you think you’ve got time to go over some maps with me? I’m assigned to traveling with Senator Amidala, she needs to go settle another trade incident. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but these maps sure do.’ he says.

‘Can’t Padmé go over those maps with you if she’s the going to the planet in the first place?’ you ask, not wanting to leave your comfortable and warm bed.

‘She’s on Naboo. I’m supposed to pick her up on the way there.’ answers Anakin.

‘Okay, fine. I’ll come see you at your quarters in a few minutes.’ you say.

‘Thanks!’ says Anakin.

You sigh and throw the comm device on the bed. You look to your side and see Rex is still asleep. It makes you chuckle. You could probably drop a bomb on the building, and the sound just wouldn’t wake him up.

You slowly untangle your legs from his and lift his arm so you can get up. You silently get dressed before hovering over his body.

Kisses are pressed to his cheeks, nose and forehead. Rex only shifts a bit, but doesn’t wake up. You take the necklace off and carefully place it around his neck. With one last kiss, you leave your quarters and head for Anakin’s.

Four.

You exhale sharply when you land on your back.

‘And that-’ says Ahsoka’s voice above you. ‘Is how you take someone out when you don’t have your lightsaber on you.’

A small round of applause comes from the younglings you’re teaching. Originally, they were Ahsoka’s class but she asked you to join her in some examples, and you agreed. Though she hadn’t told you just how many times she was going to throw you on the ground.

‘Impressive.’ you say as you take a hold of Ahsoka’s extended hand and allow her to pull you to your feet.

‘All right kids.’ you say to the small group of younglings in front of you. ‘You’ve seen how it works now. Pair up with someone else and go try it out yourselves.’

They all excitedly pair up and get to work. You smile as you watch them struggle, thinking back to your own training sessions as a youngling.

‘I’m pretty sure we weren’t that small when we were younglings.’ you say to Ahsoka. ‘You were.’ she says, making you raise your eyebrows at her. ‘I’m taller than you.’ you protest, making her laugh out loud.

You watch the younglings for a while, correcting them every now and then. They’re very good for kids their age, and you can tell they’re fast learnings. You’re wondering if one of them might become your padawan, and about all the things you could teach them.

Just as Ahsoka tells everyone to take a break while she explains the next useful movement, the door to the training hall opens.

The clones didn’t train much in the Temple’s halls, but they did on the occasion theirs was too crowded. Or if they had been near the Temple and didn’t feel like traveling far.

A couple of the 501st have entered the room, and you scan their faces for Rex. He’s the last one to enter and you smile at him as he makes his way toward you. When he’s almost reached you, he takes off the necklace.

Just as he hands it to you, one of the younglings gasps loudly.

‘You’re Captain Rex of the 501st!’ he says.

Rex looks at him and nods. ‘That’s right kid. Keep up your training and I might see you out on the front some day.’ he says and the younglings look up at him in awe.

You chuckle at their reaction and shoot Rex a wink. He smiles at you, waves at Ahsoka, and then returns to his brothers to start their training session.

Five.

You don’t get a lot of free time nowadays. So when you do, you use it well. You’re currently in the gardens, meditating.

When you were younger, you didn’t like meditating very much. You would much rather be working on your lightsaber skills, than sitting in one spot of hours.

But as you got older, you realised the importance of connecting with the Force, and you started to appreciate alone time more.

Luckily, the gardens weren’t very crowded when you arrived. You took place in your favourite spot, closed your eyes and slowed your breathing.

After a while, you noticed other people’s presences in the force fading away one by one. Until you could feel no one else’s presence, and it was just you.

You’re unaware how much time has passed, when you sense a familiar presence coming closer.

You smile, but keep your legs crossed and your eyes closed. You hear footsteps coming closer, until they come to a stop right next to you.

There must be no one else watching, because you feel how Rex presses a kiss to your cheek. You then feel something cold be placed carefully around your neck. You smile again and after another kiss to your cheek, Rex leaves again, and you continue your meditation.

Six.

This war had taken too much from too many people. Everyone was tired of it, and everyone just wanted it to end. You were tired, too. You’d seen too many of your friends die, and too many innocent people you couldn’t save.

You weren’t a soldier. You’re a peacekeeper. But you can’t remember the last time you actually referred to yourself as one, let alone feel like it.

Still, the war raged on, like a hot fire turning everything in its path into ashes, leaving nothing but grief and sorrow behind. The war was unforgiving, merciless, swallowing everyone and everything in its path.

You couldn't stand by and watch anymore. Especially when all the fighting got too close for your taste.

You'd been sent to a planet you visited a lot when you were a child. It was a peaceful, neutral planet. Until the Separatists came to claim it. The planet's original inhabitants didn't have the proper training or recourses to fight, so the Republic sent you and your men there.

When you got to the planet it was nothing but chaos. The Separatists had wanted to take control of the planet for its strategic location. It seems they would do anything to get their hands on it.

Including wiping out an entire race of people.

You couldn't let that happen. You had been right there to see so many people get injured or killed because of the Separatists. You wouldn't stand by and watch yet another peaceful planet be taken.

The Separatists were using a new kind of droid, one that could follow orders all at once because of one single command center. You'd sent your men to keep fighting on the front lines, and to protect the people.

You would disarm the command center, so their commands couldn't get to the droids on the battlefield.

But you weren't an expert on shutting down such a massive command center on your own. While thinking back to all the happy memories you made in the past when you visited this planet, the only option you could think of was to blow up the entire command center.

You didn't have any explosives on you, so you decided to fling both of your lightsabers into the power generator. At the time, you didn't even know if it would work. Turns out it did. Maybe it worked a little too well.

The blast was enormous. You successfully blew up the entire command center, and your men could pick the droids off like target practice.

But when your second in command didn't hear back from you, he sent a few men to go and look for you.

They found you near the center of the blast, severely injured and barely alive.

They rush you back to the ship and on the way back to Coruscant, while the medical droids aboard the ship do the best they can. But they're losing you, and it's unwise to move you at this point, so they keep you aboard the ship.

Having heard of your state, both Anakin and Ahsoka rushed to the ship you're on in the hangar.

They watch anxiously as the medial droids fuss over you. Ahsoka can see your body is as good as lost, but she can still sense your presence in the Force. It's all she can hold on to.

Meanwhile, Anakin is trying to get a hold of Rex. He'd been suspecting something was going on between you and his captain. He figured if anyone needed to be there, it's Rex.

'Yes?' says Rex when he finally answers his comm.

'Rex, you need to get here.' says Anakin, voice slightly breaking as he talks. He was so terrified to lose you.

'Everything alright, sir?' says Rex.

'It's Y/N.' says Anakin.

Rex is quiet for a while.

'Rex?' says Anakin.

'Where is she?' asks Rex, and they can all hear how he tries to keep his voice steady.

'On the ship in the hangar. They just arrived but they can't move her.' says Anakin.

'I'm on my way.' says Rex.

Anakin knew for a fact Rex was nowhere near the hangar, but he arrives there in mere minutes. He must have ran all the way here.

Ahsoka stops Rex before he can enter the room you're in. Rex is breathing heavily, pressing a hand to his side which is aching from the sprinting.

'Rex.' says Ahsoka softly. 'She's not-'

But Rex doesn't let her finish, he pushes her aside and enters the room.

He nearly breaks at the sight of you. Rex blindly reaches for something to steady him as he stumbles on his feet, and Anakin catches his arm.

Rex' eyes fill with tears as he looks at you.

This is not how he remembers you. This is not how you looked when you cheerfully waved him goodbye as your ship took off.

The robes you always wear are covered in dust and ashes. There's burn marks all over them. On some places, the fabric of the robes was completely gone, showing the burn wounds on your skin.

The side of your head is crusty with a mixture of dried blood and dirt. One side of your body is littered in bruises, from where you must have hit a wall.

'There was a blast.' mumbles Anakin. 'She blew up the generator and disarmed all of the droids. She saved an entire planet from the Separatists.'

Rex presses a hand to his mouth and mumbles something in Mando'a which Anakin doesn't understand.

He slowly approaches the bed, one hand reaching out to hold yours. His other hand is clutched around the necklace he wears.

This wasn't happening. You still had to win the war, get your own apartment for the two of you, tell war stories to new friends. This couldn't be the end of your story. This couldn't be his last memory of you.

Rex lets go of your hand to stroke your cheek.

Anakin and Ahsoka leave the room, giving Rex a moment of privacy.

'Wake up, mesh'la.' says Rex softly, voice breaking at almost every word he says. 'Wake up so I can give you the necklace. You promised you'd always be there to take it from me when we'd see each other.'

And you do wear the necklace one more time. Rex slid it around your neck, and buried it along with your body.

And every battle he fights in the future, he does in the name of his beloved General Y/L/N. There was no reason to keep it a secret any more. He'd dedicate every single fight to you. He owed you that much. He kept your memory alive.

Every night, his heart aches because of the absence of your shared necklace. The absence of your love, and your promise to always be there.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit